


Shadows of Starling

by MarvelMatt



Series: Shadows Series [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Arrow (TV 2012), Green Arrow - All Media Types
Genre: Archery, Assassination, Crime Fighting, Crimes & Criminals, Double Life, F/M, Families of Choice, Family, Flashbacks, Heroes & Heroines, Heroism, Humanity, Hydra (Marvel), Lian Yu, Merlyn Global Group, Moral Dilemmas, Morality, Organized Crime, Past Relationship(s), Past Torture, Post-HYDRA Reveal, SHIELD, Starling City, Survival Training, Team as Family, The foundry, Training, Two stories, Vigilantism, Villains
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-05-01 08:05:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5198423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarvelMatt/pseuds/MarvelMatt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grant Ward has left both, SHIELD and HYDRA, behind him, and started a new life in Starling City.</p><p>So far, so good.</p><p>The only problem? They aren't done with him... and neither is his past. Rediscovering old friends and family living in a city that has been thoroughly corrupted by HYDRA, he makes the choice to fight back against HYDRA, but this time, he will do it on his own terms, with no orders and no one holding his strings.</p><p>Pushing himself to new and higher limits than before, in an attempt to save this city - his city - and hopefully heal his soul in the process, he must become someone else.</p><p>He must become something else.</p><p>Meanwhile rumblings of a new project, the mysterious 'Undertaking', has SHIELD feeling concerned, especially with the fact that it seems to centre on Starling City, where a formerly brainwashed, former HYDRA agent has now taken up his residence. Feeling that it's necessary, SHIELD Director Nick Fury sends his best team to investigate The Undertaking - SHIELD Team 616.</p><p>For someone though, The Undertaking isn't just a project.</p><p>It's a necessity.</p><p>And one he will risk his life for, in order to see it come to fruition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue to the New War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT AUTHORS NOTE - 02/05/2017
> 
> For all of you wondering - NO - I have not abandoned this story, but I had put it on the back burner until recently, when I finally decided to sit down, and flesh out where I wanted it to go.
> 
> I then began a major overhaul of everything I have written for it, both posted and non-posted, which has taken me quite some time, and is still ongoing as of this posting.
> 
> Chapters one through four though are one hundred percent ready, and chapters six and seven and roughly eighty percent complete - chapter five still needs some work though.
> 
> I have completely removed Ward's connection to the Queen family, as that was just a way of making him fill Oliver's shoes, and follow the original storyline which, 1). I didn't like, and 2). I received a lot of complaintas about anyway, so I decided to remove Thea and Moira as factors. They still exist, and may crop up later on, but there will be no biological relationship there. The only cross-universe one is the one between Grant and Tommy, and I intend for it to stay that way.
> 
> A major intent for me now is to write an original storyline that ties in with AoS at some stage, as well as stays somewhat (read: extremely vaguely) connected to the CW's Arrowverse, which includes a flashback/young Ward storyline that borrows elements from Arrow, but is for the most part, completely different. As this is an Arrow AU, there will be some taking from the show, which non-viewers won't even notice, but I do hope that viewers won't mind, especially as I have tried to make at least a few changes, and these will become fewer and fewer as we go on.
> 
> We will also see a larger role given to supporting characters and their backstories, which is something I always find to be underdone on TV, as well as introducing other Marvel and DC/Green Arrow related characters in the pages to come.
> 
> Please enjoy, and if you would be kind enough, leave me a review in the comments box below.
> 
> -MarvelMatt

**Chapter One: Prologue to the New War**

**  
**

* * *

**_  
_ **

**_"_ ** **_My name is Grant Ward, and for fifteen years, I worked as a traitor, before I was eventually caught. I had fought my way back to working SHIELD, away and against the death and destruction that calls itself HYDRA, as a way to atone for my sins, but like everything does, things changed, and I left to find myself._ **

**_I want to be more than just a weapon._ **

**_I want to be someone else._ **

**_I want to be something else"_ **

**_  
_ **

* * *

 

Previously on Shadows of the Soul

_  
_

_Pulling over to read the signs, he smiled to himself. If he wanted to start somewhere new, he needed a city. One that he could learn the truth about HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D. in, but it had to be one he'd been to before, even if it was just to set up a temporary safe house with John. He'd still mapped out the city in his head._

_Besides, if nothing else, this one had all of his own training gear stored away, under that abandoned steel factory. John had named the place The Foundry. For him, it was about to become HQ._

_Re-adjusting his sunglasses, Grant Ward revved the engine, before kicking off, passing the highway welcoming sign that would lead to his future._

_'_ _WELCOME TO STARLING CITY'_

_  
_

* * *

 

Getting himself set up in a new city was the easy part. Thanks to one last favour from Fury, and then one fake classified data leak. His real identity was usable again, which meant that he didn't have to create another new alias, not that anyone had remembered his name five minutes after his brother's attempt at what was supposed to be a public execution announcement. A few people had sent him questioning looks when he'd had to give his name in, but no one had bothered to take too much notice of him. They probably all just saw it as a funny coincidence.

 _Small miracles_ , he supposed.

He'd taken a job at the Merlyn Global Group, working as a member of his daytime security staff for their highly classified projects. His SHIELD background, though it listed him as a high level hostage negotiator, had apparently impressed the higher ups enough to give him a starting position in classified, whereas most of their other employees had to work there for over five years before they were even considered for that division, and so now he started at six thirty every morning and finished at five every night.

He'd taken a rather large apartment in The Glades - the pay for years of working black ops that he had never spent meant that money was no real object to him, especially since he now had a similar wage again.

The Glades was definitely the seedier part of the town, with a well-earned reputation for gang violence and massive drug use. Most of the city's muggings, murders and assaults happened in The Glades.

 

_They say violence breeds violence._

 

If he wanted to save this city, and then work on saving what was left of his own soul, then he had to know his terrain. A few days spent there fifteen years ago just wasn't enough. No - he was certain that the best way for him to do that, was to live within it. He had to breathe the city in every day, he had to know it intrinsically, as though the place was simply an extension of himself.

Like a tiger in a forest, he had to memorise his hunting grounds well enough, so that he could flow through it, able to give chase to his prey without thinking about the route he was taking.

His apartment was made up of bright canary yellow walls (not a colour he was a fan of), a dark wood floor and soft black curtains, with some sparse furniture and furnishings about - which were all in dark wood and black leather. A lone picture of himself, Triplett and Garrett, and the former's Academy graduation day was hung on the wall.

He straightened up as he exited his apartment, his black security gear helped him to blend in with the morning darkness, and squinting, he could make out the faint glow of the rising sun on the horizon.

Pulling his black leather motorcycle jacket on to help fight the chill of the October morning air, he pulled his motorcycle keys out of his jacket's front pocket, before he grabbed the helmet off of the countertop, and let the door lock behind him.

 

* * *

 

Pulling into Merlyn Global's underground parking area, he flashed his ID card at the gate, before sliding into a parking space, and cutting the ignition on his bike, before he slipped his helmet off and tucked it under his arm.

Passing by Mr Caine, the parking area's daytime guard and sending him a quick "Morning", Grant headed straight for the elevator and inserted his personal security fob, before pressing the button for the eighteenth floor, where he could store his gear, and get the day's assignments.

The elevator ride was as normal as it could be, the irritating elevator music droning on, almost in an attempt to lull him back to sleep. Not that it could of course, his training would never allow for it.

His training.

That's an idea that takes him back, dragging up his memories of the five years he spent 'training' in the trees, with the occasional bout of 'fun' with John. There was that whole mission he went on, pre-SHIELD to help John with-

_  
_

_Don't think about that!_

 

He chides himself, he's always doing this to himself he thinks. It starts by letting his thoughts reach that, and then he thinks about John, then Coulson, and then he finally reaches Skye.

He thought he had loved her, but then he'd stabbed her in the back, and in the heart, on the words of a madman, and truthfully, he'd cared more about the madman.

They say that 'distance makes the heart grow fonder', but his feelings didn't feel any different to him.

So just what did that mean?

Is he in love with her?

 _Was_ he in love with her?

Did he even care for her at all?

Was she just a passing fancy because they lived in close quarters?

Was he still just angry at the way she and Hunter had treated Bobbi?

In fact, out of all of that, the only thing he was certain about was that he missed having Bobbi about all of the time.

It's been two months now since he left SHIELD behind him, but that particular train of thought just hadn't changed at all. Being around Bobbi was easy for him, she made everything seem just a bit simpler, and just more bearable, though he's glad he decided it was time he left.

Now he knows more about himself than he had before, more than just being the person John Garrett wanted him to be.

The weapon he wanted him to be.

He likes dogs, as well as his reading. There's no particular genre he prefers, though he has a tendency to pick up some of the more fantasy/mythology orientated ones. His music taste is unrecognisable to anyone that knew the old him. He used to listen to classic old-timey soft tunes that John preferred, whereas now, you could only find classic rock anywhere near his radio and CD player.

He still hasn't mastered the digital download yet.

Stepping off the elevator at his floor, he nodded a greeting at Eddie, who was just getting off the night shift, before stepping into the small office room their supervisor usually used, and took a quick look at the rota for the day. He was on the rounds all morning, before he had to escort a Doctor Thompkins, along with his or her classified material, to a meeting near the end of the day. After that he was off the clock, and today was the day he wanted to head down to 'The Foundry' - one of Garrett's old safe houses - and check on his gear and equipment.

It was almost time to go hunting.

 

* * *

 

"How's she doing?"

Coulson's voice cut through the stoic silence that May had immersed herself in, as he strode towards her, drawing to a stop when he reached level with her.

"Same as usual"

They both looked down from the viewing platform, watching as Bobbi took Skye and Simmons through some of the more basic training and breathing exercises. Skye had elected to restart her combat training under Bobbi, whose style was a bit smoother than May's usual method of trying and overpowering her opponents, while Simmons just wanted to learn some basic self-defence moves, just in case. Fitz had started taking a few similar lessons with Hunter, while Tripp generally offered advice and tips from the side-lines, where he was sat in his wheelchair.

The former weapons specialist had taken to the chair with a quip and a smile on his face, but May had occasionally caught him brooding, his depression over the situation setting in, marring his normally joyful features but then he'd go for his medical check-up, and they'd tell him that he had a very good chance of regaining full use of his leg, depending on how his physical therapy went.

But not a guarantee.

No matter how much she tried to justify it. No matter how much she told herself that he had been murdered, revived and brainwashed into doing Whitehall's bidding, she just couldn't quell the rage she felt towards their former specialist for what he'd done to Triplett.

 _Or maybe_ , she confessed to herself when she was alone, _you just don't want to_.

When they'd decided to put Ward back into the field as a black-ops specialist, operating without any back up, she'd been waiting for the call that he'd died on mission. Half-expecting and half-hoping that he'd get shot or stabbed, or even blown up, without any backup to call in.

And then she watched the video.

The video they'd taken in secret, expecting him to use the vacation days he'd been given to report back to HYDRA, before he'd asked for Garrett's ashes, claiming he wanted to bury him. Garrett had no living family, well, unless you counted Ward, so Coulson had eventually relented and given him three days off to sort it out.

Then Ward had left them for a few days, and made his way to some woods in Wyoming. They hadn't figured out why those woods were so important to him, but Ward had navigated them with a precision, buried his urn there, along with a dog bone for his old pet, but that wasn't what was important to them.

What was important to them, was the confession that Ward had unknowingly delivered them that day, and a small - very small - piece of her died, simply because of her treatment of him.

He wasn't just a mass murderer and a traitor, though he was those things, he was at his core, a lost little boy, one who had been manipulated and physically and mentally abused by a man, who he believed had 'saved' him from his own personal hell.

He'd saved him from his own hell, before he'd dragged him into a fresh one. It honestly made her pity him. To never know any form of love until he was twenty-six… it was no wonder people thought he was anti-social.

He really hadn't been hugged enough as a child.

And unfairly, she wasn't above admitting, she hated him for it.

A shrill squeal of laughter brought May out of her musings as Simmons had managed to sweep Skye's legs from under her, sending her crashing to the floor, much to Bobbi and Coulson's apparent amusement, as well as Skye's great disappointment.

She had been much more closed off since Ward had left for what was the third, and seemingly final time.

When he had 'died', and Arsenal had taken his place, she seemed as though a piece of her was lost along with him. She had been glad after he was hospitalised, and tried to apologise, in an attempt to mend what little remained of their original relationship, a part of her even hoping that he wanted to try it again, before he'd shot her apology down, telling her that she was apologising to the wrong person.

By the time she'd figured it out and apologised to Bobbi, Ward had 'died', and Arsenal was in his place, eliminating some of their more advanced SHIELD Agents like they were all rookies fresh out of The Academy.

Then he'd returned to eliminate them as a member of HYDRA, before Bucky - The Winter Soldier, of all people - had managed to help them cancel out his programming, and return him to normal. They had one week then, were she ignored him out of fear, before the senior agents had their impromptu party, and she had resolved to speak with him the next day.

And by then it was too late, he'd already left and told them not to look for him, and despite all her desires to, she had obeyed his wishes and not gone looking. They had expected something after his brother Christian was released from prison, with his sob story making his popularity higher than ever - and they waited for the story about a man wreaking havoc with his life, or even an assassination attempt - but after two months, there had been nothing but silence.

Feeling frustrated, she let her mind wander, and Jemma had used her moment of distraction to sweep out her legs, and she hit the mat, as her best friend squealed in triumph from above her.

Shaking her thoughts on Ward from her head, she took the offered hand and pulled herself back to her feet, preparing to go again.

 

* * *

 

Doctor Leslie Thompkins was a fifty-something, semi-retired woman, who had apparently been working, part-time, in Merlyn Global's Medical Research Department for nearly fifteen years, while operating a small, free clinic in The Glades, and she seemed to be every bit as excited about her work as he imagined she had been all those years ago when she had first started.

On their way up to the office of Merlyn Global's CEO, Malcolm Merlyn, he refused to feel nervous about meeting his boss, and listened politely as she explained whatever it was she was working on. He was paying attention to her, and adding in his own positive comments at the appropriate times, but he had stopped be able to understand what she was talking about, before they'd even left her work area.

All he knew, and needed to know, was that whatever was in the box he was carrying was important to the company, and that it was his job to guard and protect it, and if it became necessary, Doctor Thompkins as well.

They both continued to walk and talk (or just listen in his case), on their way to Mr Merlyn's office, before she abruptly stopped when his secretary waved them through. Leslie took a moment to compose herself, fixing her hair, and making sure her blouse was buttoned, before she marched in, as Ward fell into step behind her.

The office itself didn't 'scream' luxury the way some offices he'd seen over the years did, but Malcolm Merlyn had that air of affluence around him that only came from having more money than he knew what to do with. The way he walked and presented himself, even when sitting down, matched up perfectly with the several thousand-dollar suit, and the several tens of thousands of dollars' worth of Rolex that adorned his left wrist.

Leslie motioned for him to place the box on Merlyn's desk, so he did as he was directed, before stepping back against one of the far walls, observing them, and continuing to assess the view from several of the larger skyscrapers around them. There was always a possibility of an attack from a sniper rifle - especially when there was a company's classified material involved.

"You can leave us now"

Malcolm Merlyn's voice resounded through the room, bringing Ward's full attention to him, only to find his boss looking at him, sharp brown eyes piercing his own.

"That's quite alright Sir"

It was harder for Grant to tell who was more surprised, Merlyn or Leslie, but he could see the flickers of anger playing at the edges of Malcolm's face, while the doctor looked like she wanted to distract her boss so that he could escape.

"Excuse me?"

There it was. That dangerous tone he'd been waiting for.

"My job says that wherever that box goes Sir, I go. That's what you've hired me to do, so that's what I'll be doing. If that's a problem for you, then you may wish to review the security guards' standing orders"

Merlyn didn't seem angry anymore, he just had one eyebrow raised, and looked… impressed, an emotion that was noticeable in the way his voice changed.

"Well, how about that? I've finally hired a man of convictions. A man with a backbone. I could use a few more men like you… maybe one of you will rub off on my son"

That was the end of their little conversation, as Malcolm returned his full attention to Doctor Thompkins, and Grant resumed his scanning of possible nearby vantage points, checking for sniper rifles, reflections from camera lenses and scopes, and any other possible threats to his employer and colleague, taking the time to change windows every few minutes.

He continued his scan as Leslie and Malcolm talked about budget restrictions and rates of progress, doing his best to tone out as much of their conversation as he could in close proximity, given that it was both classified, and way beyond his level of understanding.

"-next time Doctor. Thank you"

Hearing those words, he knew that the meeting had come to an end, so he waited as they exchanged their 'thank you's and 'goodbye's. He noticed as another man, a few years below his own age, he guessed him to be early to mid-twenties, entered the room with an exaggerated swagger.

The typical pompous asshole.

"Oh hey Dad, good you're done, we need- Grant!?"

His gaze instantly snapped up to meet the newcomer, to assess him, but their eyes instantly met, and a surge of a connection flew through them, taking his breath away. Those deep brown eyes that matched his almost perfectly, but with a level of mischievousness he'd never had, but he recognised it, and he knew exactly who he was looking at.

The only person it could be.

When he had burnt down his own home at fifteen, he'd been sent to Juvie. As part of agreeing to go with him, Garrett had gotten Rosie and Thomas out of their home, away from their father, and into different families, but he never knew what had happened to them from there.

He hadn't wanted to know where they'd gone, or who they were with.

Not if there was even the slightest chance he could mess it up.

Now he knew, because across from him stood one man that he never thought he'd ever see again.

He could still remember the look on the face of the scared twelve year old kid he'd woken up in the middle of the night, and told to leave the room quietly, to not wake Christian and their parents, his voice, lined with pain and regret, managed to only get out the one word.

"Tommy?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is chapter one of story two, and I'm glad you've all joined me for this, and I hope you'll stick with me.
> 
> This is a short chapter for what I have planned, as I hope to have them double the length of this one.
> 
> And please leave me some feedback below - it's greatly appreciated.
> 
> -MarvelMatt


	2. Prologue to the Old War

**Chapter Two: Prologue to the Old War**

**  
**

* * *

  


**_"_ ** **_My name is Grant Ward, and for fifteen years, I have worked as an Agent of HYDRA, working inside of an organisation known as SHIELD, but before that, like everyone else, I was just a nobody - I had no skills, no training, and I was a scared, lost, little boy._ **

**_My life has since been filled with danger, riddled with perils, and filled with pain, but within that, I found the sense of family I had always craved._ **

**_Most of my life was consumed by darkness, so much so, that it became a part of me._ **

**_I awakened a monster inside of myself, and I allowed it to fester, and grow, until I no longer had it in me to control it, but it wasn't always like this._ **

**_My name is Grant Ward… and this is my story"_ **

**  
**

* * *

_  
_

_Wyoming Woodlands_   
_(Exact Location Unknown)_

  


Fifteen Years Ago

  


The two of them sat in the silence that had become his frequent, and at times, sole companion, while they finished off what was left of the tacos John had brought. From his place at his feet, Buddy whined at the smell of the taco meat, and after rolling his eyes, Grant threw some of it onto the floor, where the dog scarfed it down, while John sprang to his feet, filled with energy, and brimming with a well-concealed excitement.

"Come on then kid. We've eaten, and it's time we got going. I've got a little trip planned for us. You've been at it here, solo, for a year now, and I think it's time we stepped up your training"

Standing up, Buddy whined again as he was forced off his bed on Grant's boots, as the boy brushed the crumbs off of his cargo trousers, "Where are we going John?"

Across from him, John smirked at the noise of his voice breaking at the end of his sentence, before he turned back to face him with a straight stare, "Just shut up and get in the jeep"

Silently and obediently, he kept quiet as he began to grab some of the essentials, while John took the time to look-over the set-up he'd made for himself. His camp hadn't changed that much since the last visit. He's been there for a year now according to John, and the camp still consisted of other people's stolen equipment, and he can't help the twinge of pride he feels whenever John makes an approving noise as each section of the camp was examined separately.

Knowing that they're leaving, that he doesn't know where they're going, or what to expect, and still remembering his lesson from the first time they went anywhere, he threw on his warmer jacket, before grabbing a compass, hunting knife, and some of his spare clothes, tossing them into a stolen rucksack, before pocketing Buddy's lead, as he attempted to shepherd the dog into the backseat.

He waited for John to finish his review of the camp, before they both slid into the front seats. He stayed stock-still as his mentor ran his eyes over his appearance, taking every second he could to scrutinize him and his appearance, taking in everything from his clothing and haircut, before lingering on the spot where he had strapped the knife to his right thigh and smiling at him, looking caught between impressed and pleased at his decisions, and Grant can't help the warm feeling of pride that bubbles up within him at his success.

Without waiting any longer, the older man slid the key into the ignition, letting the engine come to life, and gunning the engine. In their silence, he allows himself to be driven, stopping only to let John unquestioningly place Buddy in a pet's home, until they reach the Jackson Hole Airport.

He feels the panic start to well up inside him, before John reaches over, placing a string, guiding hand on his shoulder and silently manages to reassure him that everything will all be alright. The light squeeze does it, it comforts him, and it shouldn't, he shouldn't trust John - even John said so - but it helps him feel more relaxed.

Because he believes him.

He believes John when he says everything will be alright.

And why shouldn't he?

John Garrett has _never_ once lied to him the entire time they've been together.

They pass through a small, private passport control area without a hitch, despite him holding his breath, and the two of them are then waved straight past the metal detector, and it seems that John has quite a few friends here, because they aren't made to go through the detector itself, and the security guards working seem only too happy to ignore the hunting knife he has strapped to his leg.

There's no waiting, no queueing and no check-in, as John guides Grant through the airport, which a seeming familiarity with the place, slipping through the corridors and terminals with an ease that Grant does his best to emulate from his place next to him.

Though the younger boy isn't sure how successful he's being.

They walk through to an external terminal, walking past queues for buses and the like, and stepping straight outside into the crisp Wyoming air.

There's a small luggage cart waiting for them, and Grant follows his mentor onto the backseats without prompting, and listens as John gives their driver the word to get going.

The three of them cross the asphalt, and he takes a moment to get a good look at the real world, which he hasn't seen in months. He barely has time to take in the bright lights and the noise of the jet engines before he's being pushed off of the cart, and made to board a small piper plane, which looks as sturdy as though it had been built in the fifties.

He wants to protest, but doesn't before John tells him to buckle in and get some sleep.

It's just a feeling in his gut, but Grant thinks it might be the best thing for him.

  


* * *

  


He doesn't know how long it is, before he finds himself being shaken awake for the second time since they set off - the first time having been for food. _Real_ food that he hadn't had to chase down and skin, and the hot cooked meal had tasted divine, even if the older man had forced himself to swallow his own down, he thought it was brilliant.

With a hand gesture, John beckoned the younger boy over to where he was crouched, and Grant moved without thinking, bending down next to him, and looking out at the water below.

"Over there kid"

He followed John's outstretched hand, following the direction he was pointing in, until he could make out the small circle in the distance, which grew slowly, but steadily bigger finds himself looking down upon an island, and his questioning gaze searches for John, who answers his unasked question.

"We're currently somewhere over the North China Sea. This particular island is abandoned, but the Chinese call it Lian Yu, it means 'Purgatory' in Mandarin, and a few years ago, the Chinese government sold it to a private buyer, who just so happened to be very… _friendly_ with a few of the higher-ups. We occasionally use it for the training of mercenaries - that's mercs - who decide they want to be fast-tracked into becoming full blown agents. The current head trainer down there is a man called Edward Fyers, and he agreed to oversee some of your training, while I'm being sent undercover for a few. I should back to check on your training in, oh I don't know, say about six months kid, and now… it's time for your next lesson"

"Okay John, what's that?"

"Just to remember, from this height you have to give it a good ten count before you pull the yellow cord. If that fails, then pull the orange one. If you land in the water, pull the green one. Try not to die on the way down"

"Wait, what?"

At his outburst, John motioned to the parachute that someone, no doubt John, had somehow managed to slip onto his sleeping form, before he pushed him out of the side of the plane.

The air chills him to the bone instantly.

The wind whistles through his ears.

His silent scream lodges itself in his throat as he falls.

He remembers the lesson though.

And never again will a drop frighten him.

The various greens of the island rise up into his line of sight as he falls, and the inky blackness of the water creeps closer.

Ice covers his skin, and black fills his vision.

He grabs for the green handle, but it's cold - too cold for him to be able to feel anything - and he flounders, lost in the water.

And then everything fades to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just thought I'd throw this up today as a treat of sorts. It's not heavy on the AU yet, but there's some groundwork there yet.
> 
> Anyway, leave a comment and let me know what you think below. Maybe even some kudos?
> 
> -MarvelMatt


	3. Family Matters

**Chapter Three: Family Matters**

 

* * *

 

**_"_ ** **_My name is Grant Ward, and for the last ten years of my life, I have been working inside of the organisation named SHIELD as a member of HYDRA._ **

**_I have lost all those I once held close to me, and I have decided to move to Starling City, where I could start a new life, in an attempt to right my wrongs, and bring down those who would poison this city._ **

**_I no longer want to be the weapon I allowed them to create of me._ **

**_I want to be more than just a weapon._ **

**_I want to be someone else._ **

**_I want to be something else"_ **

 

* * *

 

Previously on Shadows of Starling

 

_When he had burnt down his own_ _home at fifteen, he'd been sent to Juvie. As part of agreeing to go with him, Garrett had gotten Rosie and Thomas out of their home, away from their father, and into different families, but he never knew what had happened to them from there._

_He hadn't wanted to know where they'd gone, or who they were with._

_Not if there was even the slightest chance he could mess it up._

_Now he knew, because across from him stood one man that he never thought he'd ever see again._

_He could still remember the look on the face of the scared twelve year old kid he'd woken up in the middle of the night, and told to leave the room quietly, to not wake Christian and their parents, his voice, lined with pain and regret, managed to only get out the one word._

_"_ _Tommy?"_

 

* * *

 

The two of them stood there, simply staring at each other, staring each other down, neither one of them daring to blink, and the unbelievable part for him, is that he can see the strong resemblance between the two of them, both of them seem to take after their father rather than their mother.

Their eyes - the same shade, shape and colour - though Tommy's don't have the same weariness and hardened edge as Grants, instead they have a streak of mischievousness that shines through, just promising trouble.

Their hair has the same shade of deep, midnight black, not unlike his own, as well as the general shape of their two faces. They're even roughly the same height, though Grant Ward is definitely the taller of the two of them, and his years of training have left him as far more muscular than Tommy.

Their stare down would probably have kept going indefinitely, if Malcolm hadn't cleared his throat, causing Grant to look up at him, before Tommy leapt forward before he could move, pulling the man into a fierce hug from the side, and making him look uncomfortable, before his own arms finally came to wrap around Tommy's torso, even as he instinctually tightened the hold.

Malcolm cleared his throat again, looking at the two of them, drawing a conclusion between the two of them, even before Tommy had opened his mouth, as he shot his son a pointed look, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible as he began to speak, and doing it expertly.

"So, can I assume that you two know each other?"

Tommy coughed weakly as he let go of Grant, turning to face his father, "Err… Dad… this is erm… this is Grant… Grant _Ward_ "

He stretched the last name, and it takes but a moment for full comprehension to appear on Malcolm's face, his eyebrows raising in slight surprise, while a small smile, resembling a smirk, tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"Ah… Grant _Ward_ ", he stretches the word out in the exact same way, "so then I assume that would make him-"

Tommy cuts him off, "Dad this is Grant, and he's my big brother"

He wants to laugh and cry at the same time, it's an odd feeling Grant decides, so he settles for just grinning at the slightly smaller man.

And for the first time in over fifteen years, his little brother grins back.

 

* * *

 

His original plan for the day was to finish his usual work shift, then to grab some dinner on his way home, before finally heading out to 'The Foundry', which he hadn't seen in over a decade (and he hoped still had his gear stored safely away), and start preparing himself for his one man war against crime.

Having dinner with his long unseen younger brother, and his brother's apparently adoptive, billionaire father was not even at item one hundred on his to-do-list.

Nor was it even on his to-do-list at all.

Yet here he was, sat at the left side of Malcolm Merlyn, and opposite his brother, inside the enormous dining room at the Merlyn Mansion, with just the three of them eating as servers bustled about silently, removing their plates and refilling their glasses without any orders given to them.

Perfect servants were just like perfect soldiers in that regard.

He could make an excellent butler, if his efforts in the city proved fruitless.

They stayed up late into the night, talking about how Malcolm and his wife Rebecca had adopted Tommy when he was much younger, and changed his surname from Ward to Merlyn. They then talked about Tommy's life growing up with billionaires as family and friends, before Grant had decided to ask Malcolm about his work at Merlyn Global Group, a company he had built from the ground up, alongside an old friend of his, Robert, who had built Queen Consolidated, another worldwide known company.

From what he could gather, Tommy had become a local playboy, known for his many 'conquests' throughout both, the city, and even the wider world, but he had no head for business, which seemingly infuriated Malcolm, yet the older man had kept a cool head, presumably refined from his many business meetings with people he'd rather not stomach, and managed to plaster a smile on his face.

Personally, he wasn't quite sure how he felt about his little brother becoming known for being something off a 'man-whore', which were TMZ's words, and not his own.

The three of them were in the middle of Malcolm explaining the outlying basics of his plan to expand into the market in Asia, when one of Malcolm's maidservants almost dropped a bowl of apples onto his lap, which his reflexes allowed him to catch instinctually, and the maidservant began apologising to him in rapid Portuguese.

"It's okay, really, just calm down and take a breath. No harm, no foul, right?"

The maidservant sobered up, looking at him with wide eyes, as she swallowed a breath, before placing the bowl of apples in their proper place as quickly as she could, and hurrying out of there as fast as her legs would carry her, while Ward turned to look at the impressed and shocked faces of Malcolm and Tommy.

"Whoa, dude, you speak Spanish?"

"Can I assume you learnt _Portuguese_ in college, Grant?"

"In fact, I didn't Sir", he allowed them a moment to calm, "I never even made time to finish high school, but my work with line of work within SHIELD mandated that every agent had to speak at least two languages at a minimum"

Malcolm just looked more impressed, regarding him with a look that gave him the impression that he was being assessed, while Tommy whistled appreciatively, "Please call me Malcolm, after all we're practically family thanks to Tommy here, and I hope you don't mind me asking, but, exactly how many languages can you speak?"

"Well, other than my native English, I'm fluent in Russian, Japanese, Spanish, French, Italian and Mandarin, and I have a basic understanding of several others, such as Portuguese and Polish. I always wanted to learn Arabic, but I was never put in a place where I could learn anything over than a few of the basic phrases"

Tommy chuckled slightly, "See - college would've just been a waste of time for you"

He turned his gaze towards his younger brother, hoping the slight pang of sadness he felt wasn't showing on his face, "Spoken like somebody who got to go"

Tommy at least had the decency to look slightly embarrassed at his words, before Malcolm brought himself back into the conversation.

"Then, we agree it's settled. You'll come work for me"

Confusion was clear on his face, as he turned to face the older man, "I already work for you, Sir"

"Right now, you're working security. Take the rest of the week off, and starting Monday, you'll have a new job working with me, as a new figurehead in the company. It'll give you an increase in pay, I'll get the business apprentice I always wanted, it'll give Tommy an excuse to see more of you, and you'll also learn everything there is to know about the business world, and also, I thought I told you to call me Malcolm"

"Malcolm, I don't-"

"Mr Ward-"

"Grant please"

"Grant… I won't take no for an answer. Also… I travelled extensively several years ago, and I can teach you Arabic, if you still desire to learn it"

With that, and without waiting for any excuses from the two brothers, Malcolm excused himself from the table and left them behind. When he was out of hearing range, the two brothers turned to face each other, before laughing at the weirdness of the situation they've found themselves in.

At least some things never changed.

Tommy's phone rang, so while he took his call, Grant finished off the glass sparkling water he'd accepted, after he'd declined more wine. He had just finished his last sip when Tommy sat back down, an apologetic smile on his face.

"Sorry, that was my, err, friend, Laurel- "

"Would that be Laurel Lance, by any chance?"

"You remember her?"

He chuckled at the memory, "I knew her older sister Sara, remember? Well, I remember you trying to impress her one Halloween. Sara and I had snuck out to go drinking, and were just getting back to a party our father was holding. You were eleven, I think, and she had those horrible fishnet stockings on. You just kept staring at her", he chuckled lightly, "and you looked like an idiot"

Tommy chuckled as the memory came back, "I was an idiot, but she looked good in those stockings"

Both of them chuckled at themselves, before Tommy pressed on, "You want to meet her again? They moved out here before you… left", his hopeful smile seemed to be stretching his face, undeterred, and he felt a grin of his own making its appearance, despite his reservations.

"Sure. I'd love to"

 

* * *

 

"Come on, Laurel. We're lawyers, not miracle workers. We can't win this"

Joanna's voice, who, according to Tommy was Laurel's partner, sounded more exasperated than annoyed as the two women made their way back towards their desks, making Grant almost certain that that particular argument was one they'd had many times, and a discrete eye-roll from Tommy all-but confirmed it for him.

_The Lance sisters did always know how to put up a good fight._

"If we can't win a class action suit against a man who swindled hundreds of people out of their life savings, then we're not fit to call ourselves a legal aid office"

"And if we go bankrupt in the process, we won't be a legal aid office. Hunt has an army of lawyers and they are ready to bury us"

"You and I against an army? I love those odds"

_Apparently that hasn't changed either._

"Why do you hate me? Anyway, I have this for you"

"What is it?"

"A file for a change of venue from Hunt's lawyers. We're now in front of Judge Grell"

The brunette sighed, "Hunt funded Grell's re-election campaign. He's got Grell in his back pocket"

"You know, it is fun being your friend, you get to say 'I told you so' an awful lot"

Laurel shot her friend a small glare over the top of the blue folder that Joanna had just handed her, before turning her glare to the form.

"Good morning ladies"

"Tommy!"

Both girls were pulled out of their mini-argument by Tommy announcing the two of them. Both girls smile warmly at Tommy, probably glad for the break they apparently needed, before they turned to face him, Joana began looking him over in appreciation, while Laurel stared directly at his face, before Joanna decided to break the semi-awkward silence.

"So Tommy, who's your cute friend?"

"Grant?"

And there it is.

Laurel looking at him, with her face covered in a mask of surprise and disbelief.

And of anger.

He can't blame her for that though, not really.

The way he'd treated her older sister when she knew him, was nothing short of despicable, but Sara Lance had never left him behind, she'd always insisted he could be better than he was, and then he'd gone missing. Even at fifteen, he'd somehow managed to find a way to push away the people that mattered the most to him.

Nevertheless, he tried his best for what he hoped was a warm smile.

"Hello Laurel"

She slapped him.

Grant ran his tongue over the top of his teeth, checking to make sure she hadn't caused him to bleed, while Joana's eyes widened comically, and Tommy visibly winced from his spot between the two of them.

Laurel lingered just long enough to make sure he caught sight of her hate-filled glare, before she turned on her heel, breathing deeply with her back to him and marching away, still visibly seething at his appearance. Joanna followed her, shooting him questioning and concerned glances over her shoulder.

"That went better than I thought it would"

Tommy made a noise caught between disbelief and a snort, "Yeah, you and me both I guess. Sorry about that man, but come on, shake it off", and with a clap on the shoulder, Tommy led off, with Grant following behind him.

They both left the law firm called CNRI, and headed into the alley at the side of it, where Tommy had parked his Mercedes, when four men swarmed them, entering the alley from four different angles.

Ward felt his instincts fly into overdrive, ready to take them on, but it came too late, not realising they were armed with sub-machine guns, and dark red devil masks on.

 

_They're obviously pros, and they don't seem to be lacking confidence either, so they're good pros. HYDRA maybe? That awful red fits in with their colour scheme._

 

Reaching for the gun that he didn't have, he watched as his brother slumped to the ground, before he felt a small sting in the side of his neck. His hand flew up to the tranquilizer dart that had pierced his skin there before he felt the concrete under his knees, and his vision faded to black.

 

* * *

 

"Wakey wakey Mr Ward!"

Groaning, Grant opened his eyes to find the four men that had attacked him looming over him, still dressed in their devil masks. He took a few darting looks around the room, and took in what he could.

It was some sort of warehouse, filled with old heavy machinery and wooden pallets. He didn't have to see it to recognise that he was sat on a chair, and his wrists were zip cuffed behind him. He made a quick scan of the room, only to find Tommy on the ground nearby, unconscious, but no worse for wear, but his blood set to boil.

They'd dared to lay a hand on his brother.

 

_Obviously they didn't know who they're dealing with._

 

"Did John Garrett ever give you his list? His notebook?"

 

_They know who John is._

_And that he had the notebook._

_That's got to make them HYDRA field agents, or at least hired muscle. They look more like mercs though, which makes them meaner, but probably less professional._

_And less careful._

 

He let out a loud moan, causing the others to chuckle at him, after a sharp sting from the Taser jarred him back to his senses, and one of the men, presumably the leader, stepped forward, to get into his face, shoving the bright red mask into his face.

Their masks that are supposed to scare their enemies.

 

_What is this? Amateur hour?_

 

"Now here's how this is going to work. I'm going to ask you some questions, and you're going to give me some answers. Now, did John Garrett ever tell you anything?"

He doesn't let them see him smirk.

"Yes"

He notices them all relax completely, and he can feel the sense of amusement they have in the air. They're all no doubt thinking they've got him broken and terrified.

"Good, that's good. So, what did he tell you?"

"He told me I'm going to kill you"

They all tensed up, before laughing out, and the lead man splutters out in between his chuckles, "Sure you are", he reaches over to pat him on the cheek, "and how're you going to do that when you're zip-cuffed to that their chair"

He raised his head, showing them his smirk, before raising his now-released hands, "Really? I hadn't noticed"

He threw a punch to the jaw right in front of him, before flipping the chair he was sitting in, catching it, and using it as a shield from the counterattack, the other man's fist shattering the old wood, before he grabbed a splintered piece, and used it to pierce the man's neck.

He barely even noticed as he dropped to the floor.

Dead.

He wasted no time jumping over to the second man, who was still fumbling for the weapon that was hanging at his side. A quick strike onto his nose stunned him long enough for Ward to relieve him of his knife, and use it to slice open the neck, dropping to join his friend on the floor.

The third man snuck behind him as the fourth man took aim. Acting on his instincts, he grabbed the man behind him, spinning and using him as a human shield from the bullet spray. He felt the constant impacts of the bullets striking the man's body, before he heard the 'click' of an empty magazine.

Seeing his three comrades' dead bodies on the floor, and as he needed the time to reload, which he wasn't about to receive, the final man turned on his heel and fled.

 

_Smart move._

_Almost._

 

He didn't make it far enough, before Ward's powerful strides caught him up. He grabbed him from behind, hooking his right arm around his neck, and snapped it, feeling more than hearing the 'snap' of the bones, before the body collapsed, unable to support its own weight, and he let it fall to the ground.

He returned to the side of his unconscious brother, checking his pulse to reassure himself, before taking his cell phone and dialling 911.

 

* * *

 

"That's your story", the detective looked ready to punch him, "a man in a green hood showed up, and fought these guys? Why would he do that?"

He smiled, with just a hint of cockiness added to layer his words, "I don't know Detective, but find him and you can ask him"

He can easily see Detective Lance's utter disdain for him, if he hadn't already known that Sara's dad despised him completely, it would have been made clear to him just based on the man's face alone, but before anything else could happen, the detective turned his full attention away from him, and onto Tommy, who tried to shrink back, and hide in the couch cushions.

"So did you see this nutjob?"

"Nah… I mean I was kinda out of it. All I saw was some really blurry movement and I think I heard some gunfire"

The detective wasn't pleased.

He looked ready to push the issue, and Grant feels his own heartrate increase in response. Just what might Tommy have seen while he was supposed to be on the floor, unconscious? But before it could get that far, Malcolm stood up, bringing their attention to him, and acting as their saving grace.

"Alright gentlemen, they've given you their statements. If these two remember anything else, then I'm sure that they will get in touch"

Malcolm had one of his maids' shepherd the two officers out of his greeting room, and out of his house, before another two men entered the room. Both decked out in dark suits and pistol holsters, with military-style haircuts. One of the men was Caucasian with fair hair, he had combed backwards into a brush cut, and the other man was African American, with a short, black buzz cut, giving the impression that he had a dark shadow on his head.

"These men are Robert Scott and John Diggle. They'll both be accompanying the two of you from now on. No arguments from either of you", he levelled them both with a glare and the protests died on their lips, "Now Tommy you're with Rob, and Grant you'll be with John, and if you'll both excuse me, I have phone calls to make"

 

* * *

 

"So what do I call you?"

John Dingle, his own bodyguard - not that he needed one - Malcolm was just being overprotective, and he wasn't quite sure how he felt about that - looked back at in the rear view mirror from his seat in the front of the car, where he was driving, "Diggle's good Sir. Digg if you like"

"Military? And please don't call me Sir"

His eyes slid back to the road, "101st based out of Kandahar. Retired. Been in the private sector a little over four years now. I don't want there to be any confusion between us, my ability to keep you safe will outweigh your comfort-"

He didn't notice the back door opening, and Grant used the distraction to roll out.

"-is that clear Sir? Sir?"

 

* * *

 

'The Foundry', as John used to call it, was essentially an underground bunker, which was located in the sewers underneath an abandoned steel factory in The Glades, which was now owned by one of the companies Malcolm was competing against. The entrance was hidden in the alleyway around the back of the factory, and disguised as a streets electrical box.

The kind of thing that everyone walked past, unless they knew exactly what it was.

The morning air was brisk, and slightly chilly, but he was so used to it that he was barely fazed at all. He slid a digital key into the slot that would normally take a repair man's key, and double-checking to make sure that the alleyway was empty, he pushed open the two doors and dropped into the hole.

It had taken him a few weeks' worth of redecorating, and plenty of sleepless nights, but now, it was fully decked out and ready to go. It was his first visit to the place since he'd deemed it ready to go, and it was now home to some fairly advanced computer equipment that he barely knew how to use, the suit he'd been given as a gift, his old compound bow and a few of the more useful gadgets he'd picked up over the years.

Moving over to one of the workbenches, he reached below it to grab his old storage box he'd taken from his first missions, he twisted the lock to put in the right combination, before he pulled out the list of names John had given him, telling him they were associates of his.

 

_HYDRA sympathisers, in other words._

 

And almost with a gigantic stroke of luck, for Laurel anyway, not so much if you were Adam Hunt.

Because Adam Hunt was on the list.

And that meant that tonight… it was time for him to begin.

 

* * *

 

"You tell Grell that I put him on the bench, I can take him off it. I will turn him into a cautionary tale"

"Yes Mr Hunt"

"And this lawyer, this Laurel Lance, I thought I told you to deal with her"

He stopped, his assistant was still stood next to him.

"Why are you still here?" Danger laced every word he spoke, and his assistant turned away, moving away as quickly as he could, with fear present in his eyes.

He turned to enter his car, when the light behind them exploded. The small explosion with sparks shooting out of it set everyone alert, as the parking garage become cloaked in shadow. His two security guards drew their guns and their eyes narrowed, as they attempted to scan the parking garage, assessing each possible hiding place, but it was too dark for them to make anything out.

There was a faint whisper in the air, and then one of his men fell to the floor, a green arrow protruding from his shoulder, slicked red with his own blood, and he fainted from a mixture of the blood loss and shock. Hunt dived straight into the backseat his car, slamming the door shut behind him, as his second guard began firing, aimlessly, towards the back of the parking lot, while Hunt strained his ears for the dropping of a body.

The voice that responded was a low, terrifying growl.

"You missed"

There was another whistle of a bow string, and a dull thud, muffled through the car door, and Hunt knew that his man had been taken out, even as he fumbled with his cell phone, trying to call in reinforcements.

He never got the chance.

The window smashed inwards and Adam Hunt felt himself being pulled from the safety of his backseat, he fought the urge to scream as he landed on the broken glass, slicing his palms open as his wide and terrified eyes fell on the man stood in front of him.

Decked out, head to toe, in dark green suit, he held a bow in his left hand, with his right hand holding a very sharp, and pointy arrow at his face.

"Adam Hunt", the archer's voice was a low growl, and he swallowed in reflex, "you are going to transfer forty million dollars into Starling City bank account #1141 by midnight tonight"

"Or what?"

"Or I'm going to take it. And you won't like how"

With one last arrow fired to provide a distraction, the costumed vigilante slinked into the shadows, and inwardly, Grant Ward smiled to himself.

 

* * *

 

Walking down the steps to the 'Welcome Back' party that Tommy had insisted on throwing him, despite his and Malcolm's combined protests, he waved off Tommy's attempts to set him up with one of the club's many available bimbos.

While he wasn't opposed to the idea of casual sex, he didn't like not knowing who his partners were, and nor did the women available hold any real attention for him.

He walked straight into Laurel at the bar as he waved down the barkeeper for a Scotch, downing it in one, and requesting another, while she tried to speak with him about Sara, but he rebuffed her easily, deciding to completely ignore her downtrodden mood and her protests. Tonight, his head **needed** to be in the game.

 

* * *

 

Ditching Diggle once again was the hard part, ever since he had distracted him, and rolled out of the car, the ex-military man had stepped up his game in keeping an eye on him.

 

_Hmm… I wonder how Tommy's doing with Rob._

 

Shaking his head clear, and after circling twice around the building and the dancefloor, he took a small walk through the outer corridors, getting ready to make his exit, before he spotted his bodyguard stood at the end of the corridor. He tried to figure out a reason to turn around, as Digg stepped forwards out of the shadows.

"Your party's this way Mr Ward"

"I know Digg. I just felt like some fresh air"

"And I would believe you Mr Ward, if you weren't so obviously full of crap"

Sighing in defeat, he reached over to the door handle, yanking on it, pushing against the door, decidedly ignoring the fact that it was clearly marked 'PULL'. Turning, he placed his blank mask on, giving absolutely nothing away.

"It's locked"

Gritting his teeth in irritation, Digg reached over him to open the door, and Ward struck. His hand snuck under his arm, before wrapping around his neck, and tightening like a boa constrictor, and within seconds, his bodyguard was unconscious.

As gently as he could, he dragged the bigger man into the corner, placing him so that he was seated on some empty wine crates, with his back resting against the wall. The pinging of his cell phone alerted him to the time - 00:00 - it was midnight, and bank account #1141 was still empty.

 

* * *

 

"It's time. Stay in the corners and stay alert"

Adam Hunt's new head of security, Constantine Drakon, locked the doors behind him, leaving his men scattered throughout the corridor. All of them failed to notice the arrow, with a titanium cable attached to the arrowhead, embed itself in the outside wall.

They clicked off the safeties on their sub-machine guns, as the elevator neared their floor, moving into position, and taking aim at the doors as it came to a complete stop.

The second the doors opened just a fraction, a green arrow flew from the metal box, dropping one of the guards. The green blur of a vigilante flew out of the elevator, dodging the delayed spray of machine gun fire, and into the nearest corner, diving into a fist fight with two of the other guards, not giving them the time to pull their own triggers.

Ward used his bow as a makeshift staff, spinning between them, as he used the reinforced frame to block their strikes, finishing their stand-off when he sent his elbow into one of their noses, before using striking him on top of his head, which he followed up with a back heel kick to the man behind him, before throwing him over his shoulder and into the other guard.

He threw his bow into the face of a fourth guard, knocking him out upon impact, before running and pushing off the wall, his legs wrapping around a fifth guard's neck, cutting of his oxygen supply, as he flipped him to the floor, before instantly springing back to his feet and retrieving his bow.

Ducking behind a pillar, he took time to regroup as the last two guards opened fire.

 

* * *

 

The wait was killing him.

He was looking forward to his payment for this one. Five million dollars just to kill one amateur in a green hood who'd spooked a rich asshole? Drakon knew that he wasn't going to be considered the smartest guy around, but long ago, he'd learned the one thing he was an expert - a child prodigy even - at.

Killing.

Taking out one Robin Hood wannabe was just easy money in his opinion, so he'd accepted the contract, Hunt's men were all self-assured, and in his expert opinion, going to be completely useless.

He could hear them getting their asses kicked from his spot inside of his employer's office, giving the signal to the only other guard to be ready.

 

_He might be an amateur… but it sounds like the man has talent…_

 

He was looking forward to this.

 

* * *

 

The glass doors shattered, and they both opened fire, not waiting to check their target, and killing one of their own men, as he slid to the floor, riddled with bullet holes.

An arrow flew from behind the door, before the vigilante stepped into the room, dropping another guard with an arrow. He saw a third man staying out of it, so he left him alone, before firing an arrow that Hunt dodged.

An arrow that unbeknownst to them, was designed to tap into Hunt's mainframe, and securely transfer forty million dollars from Hunt's accounts into a single one.

He nocked another arrow at Hunt's face.

"You missed"

"Really?"

Drakon lunged for the bow from behind him, deciding that he was going to fight. The two of them exchanged blows, trading elbows and fists as Hunt fled his office, calling in the SCPD that he gathered outside.

Inwardly Ward was impressed with the way Drakon fought. He'd been expertly trained, especially if he could keep up with him straight away. Blocking a kick aimed for his ribs, he turned his block into a throw, dropping Drakon through a glass table, before kicking him in the side of the face as he attempted to stand up.

Drakon rolled with the impact, flipping over his shoulder backwards, before producing a knife, flinging it through the air.

Ward sidestepped, knocking the blade away with a swipe of his bow, and the assassin used the second he was off-balance to slam him sideways into a vase, head-first.

Drakon drew a second blade, stabbing for his face, which he blocked with a grab at the wrist, before knocking the knife from his hands and sending his fist into the side of his head.

Dropping to a knee, Drakon grabbed one of the dropped machine guns and fired as he dived over the Hunt's desk, sending a flechette into Drakon's shoulder.

"Lay down your weapons or we will open fire!"

He hit the floor, before dragging himself back-up as the SCPD, led by Detective Lance, charged the room and started firing at them. One of the officers managed to clip Drakon in the thigh, which kept him still long enough for two of them to wrestle him to the ground, and strap a pair of cuffs on him.

Ward snatched his hacking arrow from where it was embedded in the wall, directly in front of where Hunt had his mainframe connections hidden. Not pausing long enough for the officers to figure out what was happening, he ran, diving through the window, and attaching to the zip-line he'd setup earlier, heading back to the party Tommy was hosting, where he could blend in with the partygoers.

 

* * *

 

Stepping back into the room in his business suit, after making sure his archery gear was securely stowed away, he just managed to beat the SCPD officers into the room, as Lance began giving out the orders for the search party.

"Search this place top to bottom! Sorry kids SCPD", he stepped of the platform and face-to-face with Tommy, as Grant made his way over to them as quickly as he could, "Mister Merlyn, why, oh just why, am I not surprised? You roofie anyone special tonight?"

Tommy just grinned cheekily in response, and he chose that moment to appear, making his presence known, just in case Lance decided to act on his impulse to punch his little brother in the face.

"Excuse me Detective, but this is a private party, and I'd have to check, but I don't think you were on the guest list"

Lance's expression went from mildly irritated to venomous in an instant, "Oh it's you as well. You know your buddy in the green hood just robbed Adam Hunt?"

"Who's Adam Hunt?"

"A millionaire bottom-feeder", he wrinkled his nose in disgust, "I know you're new in town, but I'm kinda surprised you aren't friends"

"The hood guy?"

"Yeah"

"You didn't find him? Let me help you out, I'm gonna offer a reward. HEY! EVERYBODY!" He waited for everyone's eyes to turn to him, "Free drinks all night to anyone who can find a nutjob wearing a green hood!"

The partygoers screamed in delight, before they started the music again, and Lance's partner had to restrain him before he attacked Grant.

"That's some coincidence", Tommy sidled up to him, as they watched the SCPD file out "the hood guy shows up right next to where you wanted your party after saving your life"

"I suppose so, but if I were you Tommy", he placed his arm around Tommy's shoulders, squeezing lightly, "I'd just be glad you're alive"

His brother looked at him in alarm, "What happened to you while you were gone?"

"A lot"

 

* * *

 

"Hypothetically speaking, if fifty thousand dollars just happened to appear in your bank account, it may be best not to speak of it… to anyone… ever… okay now… and God bless you too"

Laurel hung up on her client, just as Joanna walked over to the edge of her desk, phone in hand, grinning, "Guess what? I just got a very grateful phone from one of our clients against Adam Hunt"

A large marching smile, appeared on Laurel's face, "Guess what? Me too"

"It looks like Starling City has a guardian angel"

She began to walk away, snatching up some files, "Oh and Tommy's here for your date by the way"

 

* * *

 

He watched from his vantage point on the fire escape as Tommy led Laurel into the restaurant, arguing over their best and worst habits.

"Dinah Laurel Lance. You're always trying to save the world"

"Hey, if I don't try and save it, who else will?"

They both laughed as Laurel leant her head on his shoulder, and Ward felt himself smiling as he took in the two of them. They were both happy, and he was glad that they had that. In his opinion, a real date, or maybe even a real relationship would do them both a world of good.

They both deserved to be happy.

 

* * *

 

He made his way over to his client, overlooking the large gardens.

"The police failed to identify the men I hired to interrogate Grant of course. They even thought the target might have been the young Thomas. Shall I try again?"

They had to weigh up the options, but for now, perhaps it was best to let events unfold, "No. There are other ways of finding out what he knows. How are the plans progressing?"

"Advancing as expected"

"Good. Now leave me, I have business to attend to"

 

* * *

 

**_"_ ** **_Tommy thinks that my time away has changed me. But he has no idea just how much, and there are many more names on the list… those who rule this city through intimidation and fear. Every last one of them will wish that I had died during my training._ **

**_My time on the Island chipped away at my humanity, until only the basics remained, and replaced my softness with a knife's edge, which I have trained and worked into a completely lethal one._ **

**_And now, I'll use that edge to help me save this city._ **

**_I have to become something else"_ **

 

* * *

 

"Guys! GUYS!"

Fitz burst into the senior agents common area, just as everyone was about to sit down to dinner. Mack was right behind him, both of them slightly out of breath from their apparent sprint to the room.

Barton and Romanoff sprang to their feet, hands flying to their weapons, which weren't there, but settled into fighting stances, ready to deal with the attackers.

"What's going on!?"

Fitz didn't answer, he just switched on their TV and began flicking through the channels, determinedly looking for something. Powered by their curiosity, they all drifted over to the soda area as Fitz settled on the news channel.

"And in other news, Starling City millionaire Adam Hunt was targeted recently by a new vigilante. Hunt, who stood accused of swindling forty million dollars in life savings was attacked by the vigilante the SCPD has named 'The Hood' and had that very same amount stolen. The vigilante in the green hood, used his bow and arrows to take out Hunt's security team before seemingly reclaiming the money, leaving some to praise him as a modern day Robin Hood, while others are quick to point out his existing body count. We'll have more on this story as it progresses"

"That's it?" Even Simmons looked at him barely concealing her own boredom as Hill spoke, "We get a dozen reports like that a day. I guarantee most of it's fiction"

"No", Fitz looked annoyed, "not that bit, just wait for it"

"Meanwhile in the business world, the CEO of Merlyn Global Group, Malcolm Merlyn, has announced that his adoptive son, Thomas Merlyn, has reconnected with his biological brother Grant Ward, and that Grant has taken a position at the company. The Ward family scion disappeared from the limelight over a decade ago, after various run-ins with the law, which eventually saw him landed in a juvenile detention facility. We've reached out to the Merlyn family, who have declined to comment. Speculation is running wild with reasons for his surprise return, with reasons for his disappearance ranging from substance abuse to monetary gain. In other news, genius inventor Doctor Harrison Wells provided an update on the construction of-"

That's when Fitz turns the TV back off, and for the first time in a long time, there's genuinely some news about Ward that's been well-received. Ward may have left SHIELD but is seems as though 'The Hood' is still going to fight the good fight.

It's him.

It has to be.

Skye smiles, for the first time in a long time, and begins her plan to take a vacation.

Starling City sounds nice this time of year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today is the first Sunday in about 12 weeks in which I don't have a University assignment due, so I thought I'd post a chapter to celebrate.
> 
> So please, leave a comment below and let me know what you think.
> 
> Also the pairings poll on my FF.net account is still open under the same pseudonym - I advise you to vote now ASAP.
> 
> -MarvelMatt 
> 
> P.S. No one mentions the God awful AoS mid-season 3 finale.


	4. The Bodyguard

**Chapter Four: The Bodyguard**

 

* * *

 

**_"_ ** **_The day I went missing is the day I died. I spent five years in Hell, which gave me skills beyond those of an average person and forged me into a weapon, which I then used to infiltrate SHIELD and stab those I called friends in the back._ **

**_I used it to become a weapon for HYDRA, and I built a life based on the suffering of others. I failed my friends, and when I tried to write my wrongs, I failed again._ **

**_I let those who had believed in me down._ **

**_More importantly, I let her down._ **

**_And now I have come to Starling City, to save it in an attempt to right the wrongs that I have caused. But to do that without endangering the people closest to me, like my brother, I have to be someone else._ **

**_I have to be something else"_ **

 

* * *

 

"Who's that? Where'd he come from?"

Blocking the punch aimed at him with a swipe of his bow, The Hood sent a punch into the attacking guard's throat before kneeing him in the stomach and dropping him to the side in agony.

"Oh shit. It's The Hood!"

He blocked a punch from his right, before ducking a head kick from his left and sending a punch of his own to the middle attacker, who went down. Blocking a low kick with a kick of his own, he pushed one of the two to the floor behind him, before dropping the one in front of him with a right hook to his jaw and sending his heel into the face of the kneeling guard behind him.

An arrow disarmed the fourth guard in front of him, before he turned and fired at the fifth guard that had tried, and failed, to sneak around him. The arrow found his chest before firing another arrow into the torso of the guard in front of him. Leaving only his target standing.

 

_This is too easy. It's almost a cakewalk._

 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait! Wait!"

He grabbed his target by the collar of his jacket and threw him onto the large cooling fans below them, before dropping down and joining him. Smashing open the container using the sole of his boot, sparks flew as the grate was chewed up, revealing the sharp blades of the fan spinning imperceptibly fast beneath his head.

"No! No! Please!"

"Marcus Redmond, you've failed this city-". His growling is interrupted by the squirming and pleading of Redmond under his hand.

"Please don't! I'll give you whatever you want!"

"Cell phone, inside pocket, call your partner. Tell him to give those pensioners back their money"

"Please don't"

"Do it now!"

He'll do it. Ward can feel the fear radiating off the man, and the sheer relief when he finally lets him go, stepping off the side of the fan and walking away. The faint sounds of a cell phone dialling could be heard in the background.

He smirked inwardly.

 

_Too easy._

 

* * *

 

_"_ _Over the past fifteen years, Mr. Redmond has withdrawn more than thirty million dollars from the plan's account. Mr. Redmond claims refunding the Halycon pension plan has always been his intent. But inside sources say Redmond was coerced into action by the vigilante known as 'The Hood'"_

"This guy gets more airtime than the Kardashians, right?"

Looking up from the plans they were going over, Grant and Malcolm looked up to see Tommy stroll into his dad's office. Diggle was stood in the corner, as calm as he always was, but Rob was nowhere to be seen.

Feeling a set of eyes on him, he looked back to see Malcolm's questioning gaze.

"I have no idea who they are either"

"Seriously?" Tommy's tone was more mocking now, "Anyone would believe you two lived on an island"

Neither one of them notice Ward's miniscule flinch at the mention of an island, but he doesn't notice Diggle spotting him, as well as the way his eyes narrow at the movement. He just files it away with the things that don't make sense about his current employer. The occasional flinch at the weirdest of things, the hyper-awareness, the surprising strength and his ability to evade him, even using all of his Special Forces training. The guy looked, walked and talked like a soldier, and they've never talked about his life prior to his arrival in Starling City.

 

_Maybe he was Special Forces too?_

_It would explain the extended absence._

 

"What are you doing here?"

Malcolm's borderline neutral tone contrasted his irritated face, as he spoke to his son.

"What? My father is signing papers to give my long lost brother training in the world of business. It might sound boring, but I wouldn't miss it for the world"

 

* * *

 

_"_ _I don't know what I've done to earn this witch hunt from Ms. Lance and her bosses at CNRI, but I can assure you that I am an honest business man, and that I will fight this slander until my last dime and breath. That's all I have to say. Thank you"_

"Who's that?"

Hearing the near silent question, Diggle stepped closer to Grant as they walked up the court room steps, so that he could whisper under his breath, so that the two Merlyn's couldn't hear him.

"Martin Somers. He owns the docks. He's being accused of murder, drug smuggling and bribery. He's a scumbag businessman"

Grant raised his eyebrow, half in amusement, and half in question, causing Diggle to supress a smile.

"Supposedly, that is"

"Well then", he ran his eyes over the man, taking in his appearance, "I hope that we see justice served"

 

* * *

 

They all met with one of Malcolm's more trusted lawyers, as well as a few members of the directorial staff, who seemed to be quite eager to meet him. He signed what amounted to a very basic contract between them, stating that Grant couldn't take any information from Merlyn Global and take it elsewhere, even after he had left the company, and that once the contract period was up, he was free to remain at working with Malcolm, or try his fortune elsewhere.

He would start on Monday, working as a Contracts Manager - overseeing the fulfilment of the Group's contract conditions and even managing some of their construction sites from a administrative point of view. He would also meet with potential clients, go over the specifics in the contracts and negotiate on behalf of the company if necessary, which he would then sign, before returning it to their programming department, to be handed off to their scheduling team.

Shaking hands with their lawyer one final time, he watched as Malcolm left with him, both men heading off for the rest of their day.

He left them near the exit to the underground car park, as Malcolm took a phone call, which for reasons Grant couldn't understand, but Tommy could, judging by the way he rolled his eyes, included challenging his caller to a squash match. With Tommy alongside him, they decided to leave the courts behind, and walked straight into Laurel, who paused, sending a quick glance to Tommy, and shooting him a glare, but he hoped her dinner with Tommy had gone well, and obviously liked her, so he was determined, at the very least, to be polite.

"Hello Laurel"

"Ward"

Registering her use of his surname, actually his and Tommy's biologically shared one, he looked past her, to find Joanna, who flashed him a radiant smile, and a smaller blonde woman, who was shaking slightly, trying to look as small as possible. He reached out his hand to shake hers, hoping it would help put her at ease.

"Grant Ward"

"Emily Nocenti"

She stopped shaking, but she still looked terrified. He turned his gaze back to Laurel, "What are you doing here?"

"My job"

"More like the DA's", Joanna added from behind, causing Laurel to roll her eyes.

She gave him an exasperated look, "This is a courthouse, and I'm a lawyer. The better question is what are you doing here?"

"I was just signing the documents", when she stared at him, he explained, "the ones that allow me to work with Malcolm, at Merlyn Global Group"

"Ah", she began with a patronising tone, her glare not diminishing, "the runaway returns home to learn the adopted family business. Do tell me how that turns out for you"

With that, she pushed passed him, followed by Emily and Joanna, who both flashed him an apologetic smile. He noticed Tommy suppressing a smirk of amusement, while Diggle remained as stoic as he usually did.

They stepped outside the courthouse, and he was immediately hounded by the reporters asking him for statements and comments. He was grateful for Diggle, who shielded him from the cameras and pushed him past the mob of journalists and reporters, letting him slip into the front of his car.

Without waiting for Tommy or Diggle, he slid over to the driver's seat, before turning the ignition, hitting the gas and leaving them behind.

Tommy turned to Diggle, annoyance clear on his face.

"This happens to you a lot, doesn't it?"

 

* * *

 

"How much is a life worth? The life of a man, a good man", Laurel motioned to the portrait behind her, "A Stevedore in the docks of the city in which we live. A father. A man with a daughter. The plaintiff will prove by preponderance of evidence that Victor Nocenti learned that his boss, that man, sitting there, Martin Somers", she waved her hand in the direction of the man from the outside nterview, who looked nothing but smug, as she stalked across the courtroom, "was taking bribes from the Chinese triads to smuggle drugs into our city. And when Victor Nocenti threatened to tell the police, Martin Somers had him killed"

Laurel paused in her tirade, allowing the jury to soak up what she was saying before she launched back into it.

"Now Mr. Somers is very well connected and has friends in the District Attorney's office. Which is why Emily Nocenti is to get justice for her father's death… if Martin Somers is to get justice for his crimes… then someone is going to have to do it for them"

 

* * *

 

**_"_ _Martin Somers. Laurel has targeted the worst of Starling City, so it's no surprise his name is on Garrett's list._ **

**_The city's police and DA either can't stop him or they won't._ **

**_People like SHIELD are too passive. Not going after HYDRA sympathizers until they do anything. Just look at Ian Quinn._ **

**_Laurel thinks she's the only one willing to bring him to justice._ **

**_She's wrong"_ **

 

* * *

 

Somers stormed into his dockland's office, heading straight for one of his suited enforcers, reaching up and yanking him down by his tie.

"The longer this trial goes on, the more likely the media is going to crucify me. You shut this trial down now! Do you understand me!?"

"Yes Sir"

The overhanging light above them exploded, draping shadows across the room.

"What the hell?"

The Hood used their confusion to his advantage, the only sounds being the firing of his arrows and the screams of his men in pain as they opened fire on each other blindly.

He smiled at their fear, their shots went nowhere near him as he continued taking them out one by one, until all that remained was the single light bulb, swinging to and fro, creating an eerie effect for Somers, who began sweating.

The light bulb calmed, showing the entire area in full light, as the businessman looked around, and saw the bodies of his men littering the floor, all either unconscious or dead.

He was still sweating when a hand grabbed his neck from behind, choking him. He groaned quietly in pain before black spots appeared in his vision, as it faded into black and he slipped to the floor, unconscious.

 

* * *

 

When he finally regained consciousness, the first thing Martin Somers noticed was the bow wielding vigilante that was upside down and moving from left to right.

The he realised he was the one hanging upside down by his ankles and was gently swinging from side to side. He gulped - the voice of 'The Hood' was a low and chilling growl.

"Martin Somers-"

"Who the hell are you?" His own voice had risen an octave in his panic, as the cold night air chilled him to his bones.

"You have failed this city"

"No no no NO- Ahh!"

He was cut off by an arrow passing dangerously close to his stomach, slicing his shirt open as it embedded itself in the wall behind him, exposing him further to the cold of the city's icy wind.

"You're going to testify in that trial. You are going to confess to having Victor Nocenti killed. I will not give you a second warning"

'The Hood' fired a second shot, directly at Somers' face, leaving a small cut that he knew would scar, and caused his hands to fly up to it, and allowing Ward to slip off unseen, satisfaction bubbling in his chest.

 

* * *

 

"I hired you to protect Grant Ward. Now I'll admit that I've never been a professional bodyguard before, but it seems to me that the first requirement of being a professional bodyguard is managing to stay next to the man you've been hired to protect"

Diggle watched as Malcolm Merlyn continued to pace in front of him, inside his office as he gestured with his hands, emphasizing his speech.

"With all due respect Sir, I've never had a client who didn't want my protection"

Merlyn turned to look at him sharply, levelling with a glare, the intensity of which gave the bigger man a moment of pause.

"I hired you. That makes me the client. Now, where do you think Grant is headed on these chaperone-less excursions?"

"Truly Sir, I do not know"

"And he truly doesn't"

Malcolm turned on his heel, to find Grant entering his office, a small smile on his face to match the joviality in his voice.

"Then perhaps you'd like to share with me where it is you run off to?"

Grant chuckled, "Not really"

Malcolm huffed in annoyance as pinched the bridge of his nose, "Fine, but at least take Mr Diggle with you on your next rendezvous. It's not safe out there. You've already been kidnapped once. There is a man out there hunting the wealthy"

" _That man_ also saved my life"

"Dammit! This isn't a game! Tommy lost you once already. I will not let you put him through that again"

Grant looked ashamed, while Malcolm forced himself to relax, reading the younger man's body language told him that he'd gotten his point across.

"Okay", his voice was much quieter now, "from now on, Digg's my guy"

Ward picked up the bag he'd came for, and turned to leave as Digg fell in step behind him, and he addressed the soldier as they left the office.

"I know you're just trying to do your job. I'm sorry to give you so much grief"

"I served three tours in Afghanistan Mr Ward. You don't even come close to my definition of grief. But if you ditch me one more time, Merlyn won't have to fire me"

"Why come to Starling?" He changed the conversation completely, "With your skills you could work anywhere?"

Digg raised his eyebrows as they stepped into the elevator, "Oh?"

"Yeah", he pressed the button for the underground car park, "I looked you up, FBI and CIA are always looking for good people like you. Even the likes of SHIELD, or hell, even HYDRA would pay you very well for your skills"

"I came here…", he trailed off, before shaking his head and re-centring himself, "I came here because Starling City is my home, and I owe it to her to try and help out wherever I can. However I can"

Inwardly, Ward smiled.

He'd definitely found his guy.

 

* * *

 

"Well it seems that we owe you an apology Mister Somers", Detective Lance indicated his partner and himself as he spoke, "we come all the way down here to the docks, only to find that you don't need our help"

Somers ground his teeth in irritation, "Which is exactly what I've been saying"

"So I guess that 911 call we got last night, from one of your stevedores, saying that you were getting attacked by a guy in a green hood with a bow and arrow, well, I guess that", Lance reached over Somers' desk, and fingered a small, familiar-looking, hole, "was what? A practical joke?"

"What can I say? These guys like to fool around"

"Yeah", he scoffed, "well I'd be inclined to believe such an honest, and upstanding businessman like yourself except… well, one of my man found this at your docks", with that he reached into an evidence bag and retrieved the green arrow they'd pulled from where it was embedded in one of the shipyard containers.

"You see, there's this vigilante running around. He thinks he's some kind of Robin Hood, he's robbing the rich, he trying to teach them a lesson I guess, I don't know, I don't care about that. But the point is, the man is a killer. And nothing, and no one, is gonna stop me from bringing him down. But it's like you said…"

Lance placed the arrow into the hole on Somers' desk, and was unsurprised when it stood up on its own, a perfect fit for a hole.

"… Huh… well, anyway, clearly nothing happened here last night"

"Isn't this a conflict of interest Detective? After all, your daughter is suing me"

"I'm pretty good at keeping my emotions in check"

"I'm not"

Somers stood to his feet, and leant over to get in Lance's face, before dropping his voice, so that only Lance could hear him.

"You and your daughter don't want to find out what I am capable of when I get _emotional_ "

They'd stared each other down for a moment, before Lance walked away.

 

* * *

 

"Well, as you may be able to tell Grant, we've modernised quite a bit in recent times"

Grant was impressed by the sheer scale of the company, as he followed Malcolm around the offices, sending smiles to the abundance of the female workers that seemed to have appeared in the corridor, probably to catch a look at the new guy.

Malcolm just smirked as Grant seemed oblivious to all the attention he was receiving.

It probably didn't help that he was smiling at all of them.

Malcolm took him through the lower floors, where all of the interns where working from, enjoying the looks of surprise and slight fear they had, as their ultimate boss walked through their floors, showing Grant the layout of everything.

In truth, Malcolm usually makes sure that all of the new personnel are shown around by the HR department, but with Grant starting today, he wanted to be the man who did it. Grant was family now, and if Tommy wasn't going to be his eventual successor, and his son seemed determined not to be, than the second Ward son was more than a mere replacement.

He was a perfect fit.

He showed him through their various intern departments, stopping to greet some of the supervisors that Ward would need to know during his tenure. Their next stop was their internal legal team, with which he would become very well acquainted with, before they passed through into Human Resources, where they outfitted Ward with his new key card and company credentials.

The rest of their visit was a walkthrough of their other floors, and he was pleased to take note of his new protégé keeping track of everything that was being said. The first day was always heavy on the mind, having to take in so much, but Grant seemed to be handling it just fine.

They made a walkthrough of Applied Sciences, which was always Malcolm's favourite place to check in on, given that it was were all of the newest and latest discoveries were being made, and it seemed that someone there had caught Grant's interest too.

While he used their visit to get an update on a few of the special projects he was interested in, Grant used his time there to catch-up with Doctor Thompkins. Leslie was an aging woman in her late fifties, and an expert medical professional, who ran a free clinic in The Glades, as well as devoting her time to research purposes.

And it seemed that the older woman had taken quite a shine to him too, given the way she was smiling fondly back at him.

It was quite endearing in a way.

Eventually, they left Applied Sciences behind them, and retired to show Grant his new office, which was two floors down from Malcolm's, as well as considerably smaller. The walls were lined with bookshelves, one of which was filled with standard contract documents, and there was a company jacket hung over the back of the desk chair.

"Well Grant", he smiled at his new Contract Manager, "I have a meeting to get to, and I believe you had somewhere you needed to be?"

Nodding, he pulled the fleece jacket on over his suit, and moved his shoulders about, making sure he had room to move.

"In that case then, I'll leave you here, and if you need anything, my office is always open"

"Thank you, boss"

The older man chuckled as he showed himself out, while Grant hung the jacket back on the back of the chair, and followed him out, making sure the door locked behind him.

 

* * *

 

The second his foot left his office, Diggle stepped behind him. In the short time that they've been working together, or rather, that Digg's been working for him, he's gotten a pretty good read on the former special forces soldier.

He's an honest man, a rarity for him, but he's caring and a complete professional, never letting his personal feelings cloud his judgement when on the job. He's exactly the kind of man that Ward needs.

That 'The Hood' needs.

And the right kind of man that the city needs.

All he needs is a way to broach the topic, and he's sure he'll have a partner.

 

* * *

 

Laurel sped up her pace slightly, heading back to her desk as Joanna started to explain what was likely to happen to Emily at her trial.

"-and we anticipate that Somers' attorney will try and paint you as blinded by grief, or simply looking to make a quick buck"

The young blonde looked outraged at the very thought, "But this isn't about the money for me. I just want justice for my father"

Sensing that Emily was close to blowing her top, Laurel decided to intervene, hoping to diffuse the tension, "Emily, there are a lot of people who don't want this trial to proceed", she hardened her gaze slightly, " _dangerous_ people"

"My mother died when I was a baby, and my father has been the only family I've ever known, and they _slit his throat_ ", Emily's own gaze hardened in response to Laurel's, "they are going to have to kill me if they want me to give this up"

Laurel's gaze softened up, "Let's hope it doesn't come to that"

"And it won't"

All three of them turned in surprise as Laurel's father came up to them, flanked by three uniformed officers, all of whom managed to look both stern and bored at the same time.

"What's going on Dad?"

"What's going on, is that the three of you are getting around the clock police protection", he waved at the officers, two men and a woman, "get used to their faces, because they're going with you everywhere you go. No arguments", he directed that last statement at his daughter, as Laurel looked ripe for an argument.

"I'm a lawyer. I live to argue"

"Yeah, well, I'm your father. I live to keep you safe"

Laurel crossed her arms over her chest, defeat written on her features.

"Emily, let's go grab a cup of coffee", Joanna's obvious attempt at escaping the brewing argument between the detective and his daughter was a welcome idea for Emily, who only nodded in agreement.

"Yes, good, why not do that", he turned to the officers next to him, "go with them. Stay there", he aimed his last part at the third officer, ensuring that he stayed with Laurel.

Laurel waited until Emily and Joanna had cleared the room before starting her tirade.

"Protective custody? I'm seem to recall you trying that once I discovered boys. It didn't work then either"

Lance turned to his daughter, the anger written on his features, "This isn't a joke Laurel. Martin Somers got attacked last night"

Fear danced across her features, "What?"

"Yeah"

"By who?"

"That's not important. Point is, you have whipped up a storm with these guys and until the dust settles, you'll be protected. Okay? End of discussion"

He turned to walk away, until Laurel found her argument again.

"That might've worked when I was eight, but it's not gonna work now"

The anger returned to Lance's face, and he came face-to-face with his daughter.

"End of discussion Laurel! You're going to insist on doing your job, fine. But this is me doing mine. Okay? Not just as a father, but as a cop. These people, they are more dangerous than you are willing to admit". He let out a sigh, "and you've made them angry"

 

* * *

 

_"_ _Attorney for shipping magnate Martin Somers has confirmed that his client has no intention of testifying, maintaining innocence in the wrongful death of Victor Nocenti. Nocenti's body was found washed up four weeks ago. We'll keep you updated as more information becomes available"_

 

**_"I gave him his chance, all he had to do was confess, and get a lighter sentence. It was his opportunity to do the right thing, and now…_ **

**_Now The Hood was going to do it for him"_ **

 

* * *

 

"Thank you for coming"

"Anything for a friend"

Martin Somers cocked an eyebrow at Chi Na Wen, the white haired head of the Chinese Triads, who also went by China White, the Triads most powerful member in the city, their best fighter, and the woman solely responsible for all of the drug trade in Starling City.

"We're not friends. You smuggle drugs. I let you use my port"

"For which you are paid a lot of money"

His expression turned deadly, "Not enough to have arrows shot at me. You need to take this guy seriously, before he manages to screw us _both_ over"

"Then we kill the daughter"

"Are you insane? If we kill the daughter then Laurel Lance will _never_ let this go"

She smiled, looking every inch as feral as the predator she was, "Then the solution is simple. We kill Ms Lance"

 

* * *

 

She answered the door on the second knock.

"Hey, are you okay? There are two cop cars outside"

"What do you want Ward?"

Her tone was biting, but inquisitive nonetheless.

"Can I come in?"

His was hopeful.

She shot him a look reminiscent of Melinda May's almost patented glare, before standing back slightly and giving him room to walk past her.

Her apartment was warm and homey, and so very… _Laurel Lance,_ that he almost laughed out loud. Even after fifteen years, she had barely changed.

He caught sight of a plush shark carelessly thrown on one of her bookshelves, sat crammed in between some very large law books, and it takes him a moment to remember, but he recognises it as Sara's. It was her favourite comfort toy before she left.

And before she went looking for _him_.

 

_It's funny, the things we remember about people once they're gone._

 

"I know things are never going to be easy between us, but you mean a lot to Tommy, and that means that we're probably going to be seeing more of each other, so", he raised the brown paper bag he's held in his hands, before offering it out to her, "peace offering?"

She snatches the bag from his hand, and chuckles at what she sees on the inside, and he's happy to see the small smile countering her serious demeanour. She always had a weakness for the stuff as a kid, and even after fifteen years, he still remembers it, and she apparently still has it, "You're an idiot", but her words aren't biting, if anything they sound playful _,_ and remind him of some of the better days he spent with Sara and the Lance family, before everything went to hell.

She rummages in her kitchenette, before producing two spoons and handing him one. She sits on the couch, and he sits on the floor, before she places the tub of Rocky Road between them.

The two of them chatted endlessly for hours, with Ward trying to cram as many topics in as he could, mostly about Laurel's social life, in an attempt to keep. She apparently dated Tommy a few years ago, before he cheated on her, apparently repeatedly, and their dinner the other night was just as friends, though given the way. He's not _too_ sure about that. They talk about all the good work she does at CNRI, as well as her father and Sara, though he avoids mentioning what happened to her.

"I'm sorry about what I did to Sara, both before and later"

"You've apologised already"

He smiles sadly at her, "And it'll never be enough"

They sat back for a moment, simply enjoying being in each other's company for the first time in over a decade, where they aren't fighting. The peace lasts, until a small rattle goes off on the staircase, which has him on alert.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Come on"

He picks up the kitchen knife from her table, it's practically useless as a weapon, but it's a better option than the spoon, but flips it over in his hand as he stands up, ready to use it at a moment's notice. Laurel looked scared, as she should be, and he pulled her with him, away from the windows, and towards the doorway, before it's forced through by two Chinese men, and another, a woman with white hair, bursts through the fire escape window.

 

_Chinese Triad I'll bet._

_And we're trapped._

 

The two men open fire as he pulls her into the kitchenette and behind him.

 

_I can't fight them all here, Laurel will know that I'm The Hood then, or she might get hurt in the crossfire._

 

Another man burst through the bedroom window, and they're boxed in now, trapped inside her kitchen with no door, and he recognizes the woman leading them, Chi Na Wen, or China White as he's used to calling her. She's dangerous, _very_ dangerous, and a well-known expert with knives, definitely not a woman to be taken lightly.

One of the men cocks their weapon and there's two gunshots.

The man aiming the machine gun drops to the ground dead, and Diggle emerges from behind him, firing at another, taking him out, while Grant span, striking the third man on the nose, and then disarming him while he was dazed, being careful to use only the most basic of moves from his skillset.

 

_I have to make this look difficult._

 

He blocked a right hook with his elbow, dropping the gun he'd taken to the floor, before taking a sloppy swing with his right hand that connects, and drops his opponent to the floor, before turning to find Diggle and White in the midst of a struggle.

A struggle Diggle was about to lose.

The bodyguard attempted to throw her to the floor, but she reverses it, locking her legs around his midsection, and twisting him down to the floor, contorting herself into an cross-armbar position, where he can't move with breaking his arm, and she's free to raise her knife. Just when she's about to stab him, Ward finally lets his finely-tuned instincts take over. The knife in his hand flies across the room perfectly, knocking the other knife from White's hand.

The throw's given his level of skill away, and she can tell from her position that she's realised it too, and he wonders for a moment if she recognises him.

Their eyes connect for a moment, and he grabs the pistol he'd dropped earlier, sliding his hand across the barrel as he cocks it back. She hesitates, realising for the first time that she's now outmatched, and outnumbered. She releases Diggle just as footsteps begin to sound from down the corridor, and she runs straight for the window.

He lets her go.

Laurel runs straight to him, as officers breach the doorway, panting and terrified as she wraps her arms around him tightly, looking to ground herself to something, and he's reminded him of Skye from when they first met, bursting out of Quinn's mansion, soaked and shaking.

His own arms respond automatically, enclosing her with him, and he locks eyes with a concerned Diggle, "Are you hurt!?"

"No"

"Are you hurt Mr Ward!?"

"No! No", his breathing evens out, "we're _both_ fine Digg"

"This is why it's a good idea to have a bodyguard!"

 

* * *

 

The police are poking around Laurel's apartment and taking statements from her neighbours when Detective Lance finally managed to arrive. He'd been sat at his desk when the call came through that there had been an attack, and it hadn't taken him long to put together the address with the reasons why. He'd threw himself into his car, blaring his lights, pulling the shittiest parking job of his life, and then pushing his way past all of the uniformed officers in between him and his daughter.

"Daddy!"

He hears her before he sees her, and wastes no time pulling her into as tight a hug as he can manage, muttering, "Thank God", over and over again in her ear, as he tightens his already vice-like grip, before letting go of her as she decides to ask the question that's been haunting her since the fight ended.

"Daddy, those cops you sent…"

Diggle stepped forward, drawing both Lances' attention to the other two non-police occupants of the room, "I stepped outside to ask for a light. They were both dead inside the squad car"

Laurel takes it like a blow to the stomach, and her face turns green slightly, but he father doesn't seem to notice, as he's already reaching for Diggle's hand as he finishes speaking.

"Mister Diggle, just… thank you. You can feel free to run as many red lights in this city as you want"

"It's no problem Sir, I was just doing my job"

"No, your job is protecting him", he aims his gaze towards Grant, before steeping up to his face, switching from relieved to furious in an instant, "and it seems that whenever you're with one of my daughters, people end up getting hurt. You stay away from Laurel, or the next time you disappear, I swear to God it'll be permanent"

"DAD!"

"No. Laurel-"

"It's okay. I understand"

He turned to leave, catching Laurel's eye, she offered him an apologetic smile as he passed her. And he decided, that if he'd made some progress into repairing their old friendship, then maybe the evening wasn't a complete loss.

 

* * *

 

"Thank you, by the way, for saving us both tonight"

Digg looked at him in slight surprise, from his place on the seat next to him, before he slid the partition up, separating them from their driver, who didn't react, continuing to ignore them.

"I think it should be you that I'm thanking"

Now it was Ward's turn to look confused, "What for?"

"The knife"

Realization dawned on his face, before it slid off as smoothly and quickly as it had appeared, "Ah right, yes, the kitchen knife. I got lucky"

Diggle wasn't convinced.

"You threw it for accuracy across a ten foot room, and it wasn't even weighted properly"

He offered the man a smile, "Like I said, I got lucky"

Diggle's expression turned serious, "I'm not the kind of man you want to take for a fool Mister Ward"

 

_What kind of man_ _**do** _ _I want to take you for though?_

 

Lingering their gazes on each other's faces, they both smirked as the car pulled to a stop outside of Ward's apartment, "Good night Sir"

"G'night Diggle"

He stepped out of the car and lingered on the pavement, watching as it drove away to drop Digg off at his own apartment, before he reached into his inside jacket pocket, pulling out the keys to his Ducati, swinging his leg over the body and bringing the bike roaring to life.

 

* * *

 

**_"_ ** **_I wanted to give Martin Somers the chance to confess his sins, and face the court's justice._ **

**_But he chose to go after someone I care about instead. He's still going to face justice, but now it'll just be a different kind._ **

**_Now… it'll be my kind_ ** _"_

 

* * *

 

Somers threw all of his available cash into a duffel bag, rushing to get the job done as quickly as could, absently swiping at the sweat that was forming on his brow, with a single, terrifying thought playing and replaying its way through his mind.

 

_I'm screwed if I don't get out of here._

 

He turned to one of his bodyguards, who were stood resolutely at his side, with deep desperation lacing his voice.

"Tell Wallace to get the boat ready. I'm leaving tonight"

His bodyguard just reached for the radio clipped to his belt, before raising it to his mouth, "Wallace…"

_No answer._

"Wallace?"

_No answer._

"Wallace do you read me?"

_Oh, no no no no, come on… answer me!_

"Come in Wallace!"

"Wallace isn't here, _but I am_ "

The blood in his veins ran cold, as he heard the cold voice of the vigilante filter through one of his own men's radios. His breathing turned harsh and panicked, and he turned to his bodyguard, with fear written clearly on his face.

"We need to move!"

"There's six men out there"

"That's not enough! I need a small army to stop him! Get on the radio, call everyone in! NOW!"

 

* * *

 

He jabbed his finger at her, his frown visible on his forehead, "Tomorrow _you_ are going to go down to the courthouse and recuse yourself from this case Laurel Lance, or be smart about it and drop it altogether"

Laurel pulled herself up to her full height, "If you think that I'm just going to abandon Emily Nocenti, then you really don't know me all that well"

"You don't know me well young lady! I will lock you in a cell if that's what it takes!"

Laurel seemingly stood up straighter, defiance written in her body language, refusing to back down from the fight, her voice laced with daring, "Then I guess that's what it'll take"

"Dammit Laurel! I thought that after we lost Sara that you'd stop. That you'd stop just being so, so reckless"

"It's not about being reckless! It's just the opposite. I'm trying to make this city safer, just like you"

His expression softened, his eyes glistening as he wiped them, before he pulled her into a hug, "Sweetie, you're my only daughter Laurel. You're all I have left to live for"

"But what you want for me isn't living. Cops everywhere. Not being able to do my job"

"Your job isn't taking on the Triads!"

"My job is to use the law to fight for what's right! For justice. Just like YOU taught me"

He pulled away, swallowing, "Well that's just dirty, using me against me"

They both took a step back, using the break in their argument to regain their bearing, but before they could restart the fight, his cell phone started ringing, vibrating on the wooden coffee table, and with a sigh, he snatched it up to answer.

"This is Detective Lance… uh huh… now? Fine, I'm on my way", he turned to face his daughter with an apologetic look, "I'm sorry. I have to go. There's been some trouble at the docks"

"You have a job to do, I know", she leant up to kiss him on the cheek, "just go. I'll be fine"

 

* * *

 

He fired an arrow at the man in front of him, tearing apart the muscles in his shoulder, and dropping him instantly, before diving behind a pillar as one that had crept up behind him opened fire.

He fired blindly, before making a run for the edge of the crane, jumping to the level below, waiting, before firing as a third enforcer stepped up to the spot he'd jumped from.

He fired another arrow behind him, hitting his mark as another thug attempted to get the drop on him, before firing upwards, as the final one moved to look off the edge of the crane, scanning for him, but it was too late for him. The arrow struck true, taking out his opponent, and he fell, twenty feet to the cold, hard ground.

_Another one dead._

He scanned the area, taking in every sight and sound, before seeing his target fleeing into a warehouse, like a rabbit running from a fox, he smirked cruelly beneath his hood, "Somers!"

He could hear Somers start to really whimper and panic as he caught up with him, his heavy breathing coming in short, sharp breaths alongside his mutterings of desperation.

He leapt across the dock's storage containers, following him into the circular warehouse, before grabbing an arrow from his quiver and firing, pinning Somers to a wooden crate by the collar of his shirt, the businessman automatically flinching in fear and grabbing for the weapon.

He ignored Somers' pleas for mercy, before firing another arrow to the other side of his neck, pinning him by the opposite side of his collar as well.

"I want the truth about Victor Nocenti!"

His growl is in full intimidation mode, and the pallor of Somers' skin just confirms that he is as terrifying as he thinks he is. He smirks, and if possible, Somers looks even more terrified.

"I can't! The Triad will kill me!"

"The Triad should not be your main concern right now"

He fires another arrow, just below Somers' crotch, and he can see the sweat visibly dripping from him, soaking his shirt and filling the air with a stench of salt and fear as he screams.

"It wasn't me that killed him! It was the Triad!"

"Acting on whose instructions?!"

No answer.

An arrow lands above his head, skimming his hair, and he lets out another scream of terror.

"Whose!?"

"Alright! Alright! It was mine! Nocenti said he was going to testify against me"

If possible, Somers turned a shade even paler than chalk white, but he's not looking at him - not at The Hood - but over his shoulder.

Nocking another arrow, he turned to find China White, stood ready with one of her jagged knifes in each hand, and she addresses him in solid Mandarin, in attempt to remind him who she is.

Who she represents.

_"_ _Move away from him"_

He's fought people like this all over the world. Fought her before, and even if she looks dangerous, he's not too impressed, because he knows she can be beat.

_"_ _Make me"_

She yelled as she swung with her knives, swiping his arrow away with one of them, and he was forced immediately on the defensive. Using his bow as a staff once again, in order to block her strikes, swinging it to match her blow for blow.

She's fast, maybe even slightly faster than he is, and she has much more experience than he does. A quick mental check tells him he has the edge in strength, reach and raw ability, and he needs to use them.

Using boxes littering the floor, he pushed off using one, jumping up, and swinging for her head with his bow, but she ducked under him, before he landed, dropping into a roll as he was forced to dodged under her kick.

A second kick dropped him to his knees, but he used the momentum to spin on one of them, pushing himself back to his feet, stepping backwards and blocking more of her knife attacks with his bow.

He waited for her to pull back, before swinging again, but she blocked it with her forearm, before grabbing it and using it to flip him, sending him across the room.

_"_ _This is the police. We've got you surrounded. Come out with your hands up"_

Sparing each other a glance, the two of them reached the same conclusion in their minds. Both of them taking off in opposite directions, and leaving Somers pinned to a crate.

The second he's outside, he scales one of the storage containers, flattening himself against it, and allowing the SCPD to run right by him, allowing him to avoid them without needing to get into a fight with the police.

He gave them a ten count, before gently rising to his feet, and using the tops of the containers to reach the edge of the docks, before dropping down, intending to slip away quietly.

"FREEZE!"

He seized up, hand flying to his quiver as Lance stepped out from behind one of the piles of shipping crates, with his pistol aimed squarely at his chest.

"You so much as twitch those fingers and you're dead. Now put the bow down, and put your hands up"

Exhaling as bent his knees, he feinted at dropping the bow, slipping the flechette he needed into his right palm, darted around, and throwing it straight at Lance's hand. Disarming him, and pinning the gun to the wall.

The detective swore, feeling the cut across his fingertips, and by the time he'd looked up from his hand, The Hood had already disappeared.

Cursing, he wiped the blood from the cut on his jacket, before he noticed the blinking green light on the mini-arrow, and braced himself, before pressing the button on top of it.

_"_ _Alright! Alright! It was mine! Nocenti said he was gonna testify against me"_

The detective sighed, trying to ignore the throbbing of his fingertips as he felt torn between scowling and the urge to smile.

 

_That goddamn son of a bitch got him._

 

* * *

 

_"_ _Martin Somers, the CEO of Starling Ports was arrested last night for the murder of Victor Nocenti. He's also being accused of accepting cash, which is including over ten million dollars in bribes-"_

Emily can't help the tear that escapes her eyes, as she turns to face Laurel, turning her eyes away from the city news report, which was playing on a loop at CNRI.

She pulled her lawyer into a hug, "Thank you so much for fighting for us"

Laurel pulled her in tightly, "Thank _you_ for being brave enough to let me"

"Hey"

As Emily was leaving, her dad had to show up, and she can't help but send him a jab.

"And here I thought that I didn't need police protection anymore"

"And here _I_ thought that I didn't need a reason to come visit my own daughter"

"You don't", she paused for a moment, bracing herself, "I read your report from last night. I have to admit, I _am_ glad The Hood got away though"

"What!?" There's the reprimand she was expecting, "He's a criminal Laurel, I've told you, we don't need to go outside the law-"

"-to find justice", she rolled her eyes, "I know Dad"

"No", he stopped in his tracks, pulling her full attention to his steely, determined gaze, "I believe that, and when I find this 'Hood' guy. He's damn sure gonna believe it too"

 

* * *

 

Fighting the slightly smug sense of accomplishment, he picked up the pen on his desk and grabbed Garrett's notebook, before drawing a precise black line, and crossing Martin Somers' name off the list.

 

* * *

 

She activated the controls as she entered the bunker, hidden from sight. The computer panels lowered themselves, revealing the rest of their society. Each one of them dressed to impress, sans their face masks for those that wore them.

Standing tall and proud, she addressed them head on, like a queen, "Well you all saw it for yourselves. Despite our uncertainty over his loyalties, Grant apparently knows nothing about this, or about us. He has left SHIELD firmly behind him, and is now working solely for Mister Merlyn. Our secret remains safe"

The assembled group shared unamused looks, before five of them nodded, accepting the update, and switching their screens off, until only L1, L2 and L8 remained on screen in front of her.

"We will see Madame. We will see"

And with an ominous look, L1 too, blinked out of sight.

"Should I send in my daughter? Perhaps she could be of some assistance to you"

She sent a silent question to L8, who responded in her place.

"No. That may become too much for him, too soon. We want him grounded for now, but if it becomes necessary, we can revisit the idea later"

"Very well. Until next time"

"Next time"

 

* * *

 

"What do you mean, I can't have the time off?"

Coulson looked at his pseudo-daughter, hoping not to start a fight about this.

"Director Fury has a mission for us, he's even decided that I can take the original team. It'll be the five of us with Agent Barton in place of Agent Triplett. Besides, if Ward wanted to see us, he'd get in touch with us. If we push him, he may push back. Hell, he might not even decide to speak to us at all"

 

_He just might not want to._

 

Skye 'humped' her disapproval, but followed him to the meeting room anyway, taking her usual seat, as Coulson slid into his, joining the mission squad, and the second they were all seated, Fury began with his briefing.

"In our efforts to re-establish relationships with the world's various intelligence agencies, we've began lending our assistance on cases involving the world's more dangerous individuals. Interpol have spoken with us, and I've agreed to assist them in several of their more dangerous, potentially involving gifted cases"

He pulled an image of a man, wearing sunglasses, with the picture being on a strange, high angle, it was impossible to get a clear ID on the man.

"This is the only photograph Interpol have on 'Deadshot', who our experts have identified as a Mister Floyd Lawton. Formally an Australian Army sharpshooter, who built his reputation on being the man that never misses his target, hence why I've decided to send in Agent Barton to assist you. We've received word on what we believe his latest hit to be, and I'm sending in your team in to detain him"

"And the details of the hit?"

"Most of the details remain unknown, all we have is just that it has something to do with Unidac Industries, which is being subjected to a liquidation auction. Stark has offered to lend us a hand on this one, and while Iron Man can't go rushing in there, he has agreed to help get you in there, under the guise of being members of his and Miss Potts' personal security team"

They all shared a nod, "Where's the auction taking place"

Fury smirked at them, raising his good eyebrow, "The exchange building… in Starling City"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is where the 2017 updates end for the moment - chapter 5 to follow shortly, titled: 'Welcome to Hell'.
> 
> And as always, please leave a comment below.
> 
> -MarvelMatt


	5. Welcome to Hell

**Chapter Five: Welcome to Hell**

 

* * *

 

**_"_ ** **_My name is Grant Ward, and for fifteen years, I worked as an Agent of the worldwide terrorist organisation known as HYDRA, as a Black Ops Specialist, acting as a mole inside of an organisation known only to the world as SHIELD, but before that, just like everyone else in the world, I was just a nobody - I had no special skills, no expert training, and I was just a scared, lost, little boy._ **

**_Most of my life had been consumed by darkness, so much so, that it made it become a part of me._ **

**_A man named John Garrett rescued me as a boy, took me in when I was weak, and made me strong, made me fearless. I spent years of my life in my own version of Hell, in a place where I could hone my skills long before I became a SHIELD Agent, and it was there that I made friends, and too many enemies._ **

**_My name is Grant Ward… and this is my story"_ **

 

* * *

 

Previously on Shadows of the Soul

 

_The various greens of the island rise up into his line of sight as he falls, and the inky blackness of the water creeps closer._

_Ice covers his skin, and black fills his vision._

_He grabs for the green handle, but it's cold - too cold for him to be able to feel anything - and he flounders, lost in the water._

_And then everything fades to black._

 

* * *

 

Island of Lian Yu (Purgatory)   
Somewhere in the North China Sea

Fifteen Years Ago

 

Consciousness returned to Grant slowly to begin with, at first there was a dull pain in his head, before it exploded outwards and down into his chest, the dramatic increase of pain forced him to wake up all at once, and his attempt at getting up quickly sent him head spinning, white light exploded behind his eyes, and he fought back the reflex behind him.

The dizziness proved too much for him, and before he could stop himself, he vomited right in front of himself, hurting his already raw throat more as some of the liquid splashed his face, feeling hot and smelling awful, as it assaulted his nostrils.

Slowly, he winced lightly as he opened his eyes, and found himself stuck against a giant rock, with the edge sticking into his chest, which explained the pain there, as well as the small circle of his own vomit that sat in front of his face, dripping down and onto his shirt.

Fighting the urge to cry out, he couldn't hold back a few of his tears as he pulled himself onto the rock fully, pulling his legs out of the water, the water meaning that his clothes weighed much more than they should have. In his pain, he could remember hitting the water, and feeling the cold against his skin, but nothing past that point.

It seemed that the water had knocked him out, but the current hadn't pulled him under, but instead washed him to the nearby shore before any damage could be done. Absently, he began to shiver as the wind, combined with his soaked clothing, began to chill him to the bone, and struggling to stand, he began to move away from the rocky beach area, and more inland, the majority of which appeared to be a green and grey forest, as he shrugged off the soggy parachute which was still wrapped around him, with the bright orange lifejacket deployed.

Apparently he had activated it before he blacked out, and he felt immensely grateful to John for letting him know it was there.

It had probably just saved his life.

Looking at the mass of greenery he saw in front of him, he felt much more relaxed than he had just a few moments ago. It reminded him of the woods back in Wyoming, where he'd spent all of his time since the breakout, training himself in how to move and live off the land, and he felt infinitely more comfortable there.

Animals, even wild animals were always more predictable than people.

It made them easier to deal with day-to-day.

A quick pat down of his clothes told him that he still had all of his things, though his bag was now soaked through, along with all of his clothes inside, but he still had them, as well as his knife and compass. He slid the compass into his hand, and aiming for north, he stepped into the forest.

 

* * *

 

Grant didn't know how long he walked for, but it was long enough that his boots stopped making the disgusting squelching noise that came from the water being pushed out, each time he took a step, and his clothes had somewhat begun to dry.

Garrett had sent him with the express purpose of learning from Edward Fyers, and Ward was damned if he wasn't going to find him.

There was supposed to be some sort of learning centre on the island, so he wasn't too surprised when he finally caught sight of a set of tire tracks, he was just grateful they seemed to go somewhere that would hopefully be drier than where he was now.

With no way of telling what direction they were supposed to be going in, he dropped his head to the pseudo-road, and began to walk again, keeping his eyes firmly planted on the route in front of him.

The pain in his feet only grew worse with each step he took, as he realised that wet boots, tired muscles and soaked clothing made for a terrible set of gear to walk with, and before long, he began to shiver with each step he took, shaking lightly as a deeper chill set in his bones, causing his teeth to chatter.

He pushed on, determined to find, if not Edward Fyers himself, then at least somewhere where he could set up camp for the night, and hopefully get out of the wind and cold, and into a place which would be warmer.

The ground was solid beneath his boots, the prevailing cold temperature having made it almost completely frozen, and he enjoyed listening to the gentle crunch of the leaves and brush beneath his boot.

He struggled to keep his eyes open as he pushed on, the fatigue from the fall having caught up with him, as he fought to continue, forcing his left leg in front of his right and determined to keep moving forwards.

And then he screamed.

The pain was too much, in too short a space of time for him to clamp down on it, and he couldn't contain the yell of pain that escaped his lips, even as he stilled completely, trying to regain control over his breathing, as he looked down towards the bear trap that now encased his ankle.

The jagged metal shards were firmly wrapped around his skin, the pointed teeth giving him no room to even attempt wriggling his ankle out.

Still having his breath come out in short, audible pants, he bent the knee of his trapped leg, dropping so that he was resting with one knee on the ground, as he tried to use his fingers to pry open the trap's jaws.

He kept pulling with everything he had, determined to pry open the hunting equipment, but it wouldn't budge, determined to free himself, he grasped it tighter, letting the tears he couldn't hold back flow freely, as he tried to once more prise it open.

The skin began to tear on his fingers as he continued to pull, he let out a sigh of relief when he pulled hard enough to give himself enough room to get the metal off of him, before his muscles gave out, slamming back together, and digging in deeper.

He barely had time to feel the pain before it overwhelmed him completely.

He didn't even remember screaming before everything faded around him.

 

* * *

 

_The sound of metal pushing against metal jolts him from his slumber, as the vibrations rattle the ground, and the need to empty his stomach resurfaces. The noise of the boots crunching against the leaves is all that helps keep him steady._

_Behind him, he can hear the faint hum of an engine igniting._

_"_ _Bring him"_

 

* * *

 

_"_ _Is he awake yet?"_

_"_ _Seems to be fading in and out Sir. It doesn't look good"_

_"_ _Radio ahead, tell Wintergreen I want him in the medical tent when we get back"_

 

* * *

 

"How is the boy?"

"Not in great condition Sir. He has three broken ribs, another two bruised, his right ankle is twisted, he has a rather large laceration to the back of his head, fairly extensive bruising to his back and torso, as well as tissue damage to the area around his ankle where you pulled him out of the bear trap, as well as some minor tissue damage to his fingers"

"Very well… I assume you've done what you can for him?"

"Of course Sir"

"What was he thinking? Sending me a boy?"

"What was that Sir"

He exhaled, "You're dismissed Wintergreen. Return to your regular duties for now"

"I'll be back to check on him again in an hour Sir"

"Very well"

There was the sound of fabric rustling, and a brief brush of air settled across him, and he felt it across his nose, before it settled, and everything went client.

"You can open your eyes now"

His breath hitched in his throat, and he realised that all that had served to do was alert whoever was in the room with him, that he was definitely awake, so feeling stupid, he slowly opened his eyes, blinking them quickly to dispel the few dots from his vision as he sat up, wincing and gritting his teeth to prevent himself from shouting out.

For the first time, he realised that he was lying on a hospital bed inside of a tent. The tent was rather large, in fact, he thought it was quite spacious, and everything was mostly white, with everything being illuminated by a single hanging light, which swung slightly with the breeze overhead.

Other than himself, the only other occupant of the tent was the man stood at the foot of his bed. He wasn't a particularly tall man, in fact, he was about as tall as John was, with ice blue eyes and very-slightly dark fair hair, which was just long enough to reach his ears, but stay out of his eyes. He was clean shaven, and dressed in all-black fatigues, all the way down to his boots, but it was the eyes and smile that stood out to him.

It was the same type of smile that John wore whenever they were about to try something new in their training, and they were definitely the same eyes - the eyes that made it appear that he was assessing everything he looked at, trying to determine friend from foe.

"Welcome back to the land of the living Mister Ward"

"How do you-", he stopped to shake his head, as the urge to vomit appeared once again, "how do you know my name?"

"Grant Ward. Sixteen years old, from Boston Massachusetts, born to Terrance and Ophelia Ward, second child of four, younger brother to Christian, older brother to Rose and Thomas Ward. You were described as a 'problem child' for most of your life, up until your parents had had enough, but during your time within the Plymouth Military Academy you were singled out as a natural leader among your peers, with an unrivalled level of discipline, and many of your teachers saw you as a gifted combatant, with exceptional hand-eye coordination, leading many to believe, successfully so it would seem based on your test scores, that you would make an expert marksman in the future"

"Okay-"

"What I don't understand, Mister Ward, is why John Garrett would send you out here. I know he says that you agreed with him that this would be good for your training-"

He attempted to sit up straighter, and puff out his battered chest, "I did"

"Do not interrupt me", he didn't yell, but the veiled venom was there, "now tell me, do you know what this place is?"

"This is a training base, on the island of Lian Yu"

"Do you know what that means?"

"It's Mandarin for Purgatory"

"Indeed it is, but I will make it feel like Hell", the man ran a critical eye over him, with no expression on his face, giving nothing away, "this is a training island, where I organise the training of some of the most dangerous individuals in the world. Every man and woman selected and _invited_ , to train here has proven themselves to be already be a lethally-capable soldier, but you? You're a boy, a talented boy no doubt, one that may serve us well in the future, but you are an untested one, whose mentor has thrown him into the deepest possible end of the pool, in the hopes that he'll manage to stay afloat just long enough that he may learn how to swim, but what you will learn, what you _must_ learn, is to be like the shark, for floating will not be enough here. Here you must always be moving, lest you stay still long enough to drown"

The man stood up straighter, looming over him on the bed, as Grant tried to push himself up taller, keeping their eyes locked, "Good thing I'm a fast learner then"

The other man chuckled, giving away the first signs of emotion he's seen since he woke up, "I certainly hope so Mister Ward, for your sake, if nothing else, my name is Edward Fyers, and for the duration of your stay here, I will serve as your senior teacher, who will oversee all of your training", he ran his eyes over the bandaged ribs and wrapped ankle, and Grant noticed for the first time that he was shirtless and without his boots, "once you have spent some time resting up, you will join the others here in their physical training, but until then we will start with the mental disciplines. Are there any questions"

He shook his head, and Fyers merely raised an eyebrow in response, staring down at him, an expectant look on his face, and he fought the urge to mentally smack himself.

"No. No Sir"

Smiling now, Fyers offered his hand to the younger man, and he took it automatically, "Well then, Mister Ward, welcome to Hell"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts people? For those of you that follow Arrow, you'll all be pleased to notice that the use of Edward Fyers in this story will be vastly different to his use in Season 1 of Arrow.
> 
> For those of you that don't, but are along for the ride, I just hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> And as always, please leave me a review in the review box below.
> 
> -MarvelMatt


	6. A Touch of Curare

**Chapter Six: A Touch of Curare**

* * *

**_"_ ** **_My name is Grant Ward. To my friends and family, I am the brother and friend who has just returned to them, after mysteriously disappearing fifteen years ago._ **

**_But what they don't know is that I've returned with a mission to bring justice to this city._ **

**_And they never can._ **

**_These men and women - the ones that I've been targeting - are dangerous, corrupt, cursing this city like a virulent cancer._ **

**_Cancers like James Holder, whose corporation put defective smoke detectors in low-income housing in The Glades. There have been too many fires… and far too many funerals._ **

**_But cancers can be fought and conquered, all it takes is a surgeon… and the right instrument"_ **

* * *

Previously on Shadows of Starling

_"_ _This is the only photograph Interpol have on 'Deadshot', who our experts have identified as a Mister Floyd Lawton. Formally an Australian Army sharpshooter, who built his reputation on being the man that never misses his target, hence why I've decided to send in Agent Barton to assist you. We've received word on what we believe his latest hit to be, and I'm sending in your team in to detain him"_

_"_ _And the details of the hit?"_

_"_ _Most of the details remain unknown, all we have is just that it has something to do with Unidac Industries, which is being subjected to a liquidation auction. Stark has offered to lend us a hand on this one, and while Iron Man can't go rushing in there, he has agreed to help get you in there, under the guise of being members of his and Miss Potts' personal security team"_

_They all shared a nod, "Where's the auction taking place"_

_Fury smirked at them, raising his good eyebrow, "The exchange building… in Starling City"_

* * *

"Well, other than the bill I was handed by my legal team this morning, I'm feeling pretty good about myself…", James Holder chuckled as he swilled the beer inside its bottle, his bathrobe doing little to combat the chill of the night air, but it was a pleasant cold. It was a cold of satisfaction, he thought, as he strolled along the edge of his penthouse pool, "okay then, I'll see you in the office, first thing"

He exhaled audibly as he hung up the phone, before shrieking as the arrow smashed his beer bottle in pieces, the shards causing little cuts across the skin of his unclothed shins. The bottle was completely shattered from the neck down, somehow leaving his hand unhurt, and he shivered lightly, as he turned to face the Starling City Vigilante that the media had begun calling 'The Hood'.

"I have armed security inside. All I have to do is call out"

"Go ahead, they can't hear you"

Ward kept an eye on Holder's attempt at giving him an unconcerned reaction, as he pulled out his security team's weapons and radios from where he had clipped them onto the back of his jacket, before he tossed them on the floor in front of him. It took all that he had not to revel in the sight as his bored anger and feigned nonchalance quickly morphed into an expression of raw fear.

"What do you want?"

"How many people died in those fires?" His voice became harsher, "How many?!"

He paused, taking a visible breath to calm himself, letting his disgust flow into his voice, as Holder swallowed in response, "The courts say you don't owe your victims anything. I disagree"

As he was threatening the night's victim, a red dot appeared on Holder's chest, and too late for him, he realized that it was a red dot LASER sight from a sniper rifle. There's two gunshots, and two holes in the man's chest, before the blood spattered across the deck from the twin wounds on Holder's chest, his body remaining upright for just a moment, before, lifeless, it fell into his pool.

The Hood wasted no time blindly returning an arrow as he turned, immediately moving and ducking for cover behind Holder's bar table.

There were four more gunshots in quick succession, he can hear each one bouncing of off the temporary shield he had, and that told him all he needed to know on just how good his opponent is. He can see the muzzle flash from the rifle, and there's no change in position, which means there's only one shooter, who's such a good shot that he can account for the rifle's constant recoil as he fires off multiple rounds.

The expert marksman isn't just some thug with a gun. He chose a perfect vantage point across the street, for both distance and cover, and either through meticulous planning or a happy accident for him, Ward's arrows don't have a far enough effective range to be of any use against him.

Unable to do anything useful, all he can do is hold his position until the firing stops, and then wait, not breathing and barely moving until he's almost certain that the shooter has fled. He waited a few extra minutes, just to be certain, before he stood back up, letting out a grunt of pain, as he does his best to ignore the bullet that grazed his right bicep, tearing the sleeve of his suit, as he checks on Holder.

Even if he wasn't certain that he was already dead, the sheer amount of blood filling the pool would have confirmed it. He watched it, as it mixed in with the seemingly pale blue water, creating a dark, murky mess that reflected onto his face, and slowly, he reached in, and turned the dead man other. Eyes widening in slight surprise as he took in the wounds. There was no way Holder was going to survive that shot.

It was a double-tap, with both bullets going straight to the heart, completely obliterating it, and if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, then he would've said that was near impossible to pull off from such a distance. It was better than anything he'd ever managed to do with a sniper rifle, which could only mean one thing.

The killer is potentially even more dangerous than he is.

And that worries him.

* * *

It takes less than ten minutes for him to make his way back to The Foundry, having jumped across a few rooftops, and returning to where he'd parked his motorcycle. Leaving it parked up for the night, he shrugged off the jacket and hood, tossing them onto a spare workbench, where he could deal with the repairs later, and grabbed the first aid kit for himself, so that he can start stitching himself up from the slight graze the bullet gave him.

He was too arrogant tonight, sloppy even, letting himself think he had control of everything around him, but he hadn't expected any other than himself to be there, and he should have.

_Then again, it shouldn't be a surprise that a man as corrupt as James Holder has more than just me as an enemy._

He can still feel a burning sensation in his shoulder, which is odd, he thinks as he rolls it, trying to loosen it up, especially for him. Over the years he's just accustomed to pain that comes with his injuries, and it's far from the first time he's been shot.

Trying to shake his head clear, he finished the stitch and wiped it clean with a sterilising alcohol pad, before standing to grab one of the tablets he bought with the excess money he'd 'liberated' from Adam Hunt a fortnight ago. He'd barely taken a step when his left leg failed him, giving out the second he put any weight on it, and before he could take another step, it fell asleep, forcing him to grab hold of one of the steel tables, in an attempt to stay standing, as breathing became harder, and his mouth ran dry.

**_The bullet you idiot!_ **

**_Poison._ **

Muttering a quiet curse to his own stupidity, he wasted no time grabbing his water bottle and diving for his old trunk, feeling both of his legs go on him, he twisted himself into a seated position as he hit the floor, and turned the lock's dials. Throwing the trunk open, ignoring the lid bouncing off the floor, he grabbed the small bag of herbs he had stashed in there, before shoving a pinch of them in his mouth and taking a long swig of his water.

He grimaced at the taste of them, they still tasted awful, even years later, but he knows from experience that they work. He has just enough sense left in his blurring mind left to place his bottle on the ground next to him, before his vision fades to black completely, and he slumps to the floor, unconscious.

* * *

"Come on Lance! At least admit it - Holder fits his profile - a wealthy dirt bag. Red meat for The Hood, and we recovered at least one arrow at the scene. Solid evidence that The Hood was here"

The raised eyebrow on Lance's face told him all he needed to know about the fact that his partner didn't agree with his assessment of the scene, "Yeah, he was there, only this time cause of death is a double tap straight to the heart, and our perp doesn't use firearms"

"Well maybe he's finally figured out that there's a quicker way to kill people that with a bow and arrow"

"Then why are there arrows here? He what? Disarmed the guards using his hands, and without firing a single gunshot, went outside and across the street to take a few shots at Holder, nabbing him twice in the chest, shoot up the furniture, and then came back to drop a few of his arrows on the floor. Even I gotta admit, that just doesn't add up"

Detective Hilton nodded slowly as he ran his hands through the scruff that made up his beard, "Alright then, so what now?"

"We wait for our ballistics-"

"Gentlemen, detectives even, good afternoon"

Both SCPD detectives turned in sync, to find a man dressed in a plain suit and tie, which he had paired with a set of plain sunglasses, heading straight towards them from inside of the apartment, flanked by a multitude of people, dressed in combat outfits, or clothes that made them look like children. The oldest man who had spoken offered him his hand, "I'm Agent Phil Coulson with SHIELD. These are agents May, Skye, Fitz and Simmons", he gestured to each agent as he spoke their name, "we're part of a team that has been ordered here to help with the investigation"

Lance's eyes lit up, "The Hood investigation?"

"No Detective, Interpol have asked us to help look into the murders of the various people looking to buy Unidac Industries. James Holder was the seventh man on the list of potential buyers that's been killed in the last two months", he turned to the two scientists, "FitzSimmons, take a look around the crime scene, let's see if we can get a handle on what we're dealing with"

The two detectives looked on as Fitz dropped the case he was carrying onto the floor, before snapping open the lid and releasing his DWARVES into the air, bringing out his tablet as they began to scan the area. Four of them took general readings, two of them scanned the body while another flew off into the distance, heading for where the shooter had been standing. He stared at the tablet for a minute, before pointing something out to Jemma, who 'hmmed' at what she saw.

"Agent Simmons? Would you care to share with the rest of the class?"

"Yes, err, sorry Sir. The bullet wounds to the chest were the cause of death, they completely obliterated his heart, but even if he'd survived the initial shooting, he would've died within an hour - the bullets were laced with Strychnos Toxicofera", at everybody's blank look she explained, "Curare Sir. It's a type of poison. A very rare type"

"We're dealing with poison bullets now?" Hilton's question to the group went unanswered as Fitz tapped away, looking up to the scene of the shooting, before flying back to his tablet.

"Detectives", he called out to them from his place on the floor, "did you say there were only five bullet casings recovered?"

"Yeah why?" Now that he had seen them in action, Lance didn't mind admitting he was impressed with the tech they had at their disposal, even if he didn't like them trying to take over his investigation.

"The amount of gunpowder residue left over for the size of the shells recovered indicates that there were six shots fired, so if you only managed to recover five bullets…"

"Then he must've gotten in a shot on The Hood. Even if the bullet only clipped him, the poison would've killed him by now, unless he had some kind of body armour on. Right?" Lance looked towards Simmons, who nodded, "And we know he only wears leather?" Hilton nodded as Lance let out a short laughed, "Guess I can go tell the captain the good news. The assassin got him. The bastard's dead"

The detective stepped off to the edge of Holder's balcony to make his call, it lasting over ten minutes before he returned to where the agents were having a conversation in hushed tones, except for the Scotsman, he was looking at one of the arrows, with a confused expression on his face. He broke apart the conversation by clearing his throat loudly, causing them to whirl around and face them.

"Yes Detective?"

"I had a uniform relay the Unidac Industries information back to the precinct, apparently, the list of bidders residing in Starling City only has two other people on it - the rest are flying in from other cities, a few of them are coming in from other countries"

Coulson nodded his understanding, as May asked, "Who are the two names?"

"There's a Karl Rasmussen and Walter Steele. I'm about to head over to Steele now, and Rasmussen can't be reached until tonight anyway - he's gonna be outta town on business 'til then. You guys are welcome to come along if you want?"

"Okay, Agents Skye and May - I want you to head back to The Bus, grab Agent Barton and start getting ready to move on Rasmussen when he lands, we'll need to question him the second we can. FitzSimmons, we'll head to the SCPD and set up shop there, Hunter and Morse can meet us there, and then Agent Morse and I will accompany the detectives to visit with Mister Steele, and I can arrange to meet up with Rasmussen later. Let's get moving"

From his spot next to his partner, Lance could barely hold back his scoff at the sight of the SHIELD Agent ordering his men around like a general, as with a roll of his eyes, he walked away with Hilton beside him.

"Aye aye, Captain"

* * *

**_"_ ** **_The bullets were laced with Curare. A rare and deadly poison. The killer's unique MO. I recognise the signature._ **

**_He's killed all over the world. Chicago, Wakanda, Corto Maltese. He even has his own codename._ **

**_Deadshot._ **

**_It suits him._ **

**_He's never missed his target._ **

**_Ever_ **

**_I was prepared to give James Holder a chance to right his wrongs, but this Deadshot has no morality, no honour, and no code. He doesn't kill for justice, but offers his service out to the highest bidder, which makes him unpredictable, and therefore just as dangerous as anyone else on my list._ **

**_In fact, it puts him right at the top of it"_ **

* * *

With an almighty effort and groan, Ward pulled himself up and back into a seated position from where he had fallen to the floor earlier. Feeling the desire to wash away the burning sensation in his throat, he grabbed what was left of his water bottle, and tried to chase it down his throat.

After a few minutes of hard breathing and squashing his nausea, he felt comfortable enough to attempt standing on his own power. With a light grip on the table, he hauled himself up and surveyed the damage.

His jacket still needed a stitch before he went back out into the field with it on, but there was no blood on it, which probably meant there was none at the crime scene either, or at least not enough to be used for anything remotely resembling a DNA test.

His tiny wound had been sewn shut, with his usual level of meticulousness, and other than the fact that he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, he was just fine. It was however, clear to him that he was in no fit state to drive, but luckily, he had no meetings scheduled for the day, which meant he didn't technically have to go into the office.

Exhaling a small sigh of relief, he slid his cell phone out of his trouser pocket to let them know, he wouldn't be in today, and decided to repair his jacket before his brother and bodyguard arrived, as he idly wondered how he was going to explain this away to them.

* * *

"Well brother mine, what do you think? From what I've seen of your garage, you know more about different types of cars than just about anybody else that I know, is this a great place for the city's newest, biggest and best auto-repair shop or what?"

"Sweet", Tommy span around as they walked, taking in the size, while Grant led the way, having circled around from the exit to The Foundry, and Diggle followed quietly behind them. Grant had decidedly kept Diggle on as his security 'consultant', whilst Tommy had managed to get Rob to quit after just a day.

He didn't know whether to be impressed by that, or just slightly worried for his brother's safety.

In the end though, he had to concede, Tommy was an adult, and it was up to him to decide if he wanted armed protection or not.

"Private office" Tommy followed his hand, as he looked up towards the rafters, where he was pointing.

Tommy offered him a cheeky smirk, "For the private one on one meetings with the more _particular_ clients, who show an interest in the cars, I would imagine?"

He shot him a cocky one of his own in return, "Hopefully there'll be the occasional two on one meeting"

Tommy laughed, "Hey, I like it, now how about tomorrow night, we go celebrate your pre-grand opening? You could use a night out - there's a new club opening down town. It's called Poison. An old friend of mine named Max Fuller owns it, he can hook us up"

He almost laughed at the irony of the name, and ignored the flare up in his shoulder at the memory, "Poison?"

"Yeah", Tommy's eyebrows knit together in confusion, "why?"

"No reason, but it sounds good. It'll be nice to see you in your natural habitat. Preying on the city's sexy, but slightly drunk women"

Tommy stared at him funnily, frowning slightly, before his phone rang, giving him a reprieve.

"Aw dammit, I gotta roll, see you later man. Nice place though", he tapped his shoulder, before nodding at Diggle, "bye big guy", and leaving the two men alone.

"Well", he looked towards the former Special Forces operative, who kept his blank expression firmly in place, "what do you think Digg?"

"Well, this is The Glades. The rich white people in Starling wouldn't come here on a bet"

"Well yeah, but I am a hot topic in town right now, and Tommy'll help, so a few people should be standing in line, or parking I suppose, when we open our doors, and besides I'm not interested in them"

"Oh?" Digg raised an eyebrow at him, "So what then? You hope the people in The Glades will be the ones bringing their cars here?"

"You're not wrong Digg, see I had an idea, other than the management who I need to hire for their levels of experience, we'll only employ local workers. See, it's my experience that people from places like The Glades make excellent workers, and they can work on local machines, at fair prices, and if we can make it a successful business, then we can work to gentrify the neighbourhood. Who knows? Maybe I'll start a chain of small businesses-"

"I was wondering when we would get to that", at Ward's confused look he continued, "the white knight swooping in to save the disenfranchised, and all by his lonesome"

"I won't be alone, the people here will be the ones putting the work in, and you, well, you really have a low opinion of me, don't you?"

"Actually Sir, I have no idea what to think of you"

Before he could come up with a reply, his phone beeping inside his jacket interrupted them and their brewing debate. He pulled it out, sliding it open to read the message, before a small frown creased his forehead, deepening as he reached the end.

"Please Digg, keep thinking that", he locked the phone, dropping it back into his jacket pocket, "come on, we have to go"

In a rush to leave, he almost missed Digg muttering, "Since when do you tell me when you have to go somewhere?"

* * *

**_"_ ** **_The shop will serve more than one purpose. The constant influx of money should help conceal any materials I need to help with my crusade, and running a shop like this means that my gear will always be nearby if it needs repairing, hidden in The Foundry below._ **

**_I'll need to make sure that no one looks at the basement too closely if I want to place an entrance to The Foundry in there, but with time, I can use the shop to turn the abandoned sewer into a real hideout._ **

**_I just need time._ **

**_I might not get it"_ **

* * *

Still wearing his favourite brown leather jacket, he strolled into his office at Merlyn Global, ignoring the disapproving stares of some of the other senior management personnel, as he ignored the desk meant for his personal assistant, which he had yet to fill, and left Diggle standing at the door, as he made his way to his desk.

He slid into his desk chair, tapping the top button of his tablet, and watching as the overly-powered device flashed into existence, the button having recognised his fingerprint.

He gave the keyboard and mouse a few clicks to make it look as though he was logging in, while all he was really doing was opening a shadow programme that he had had Fitz help him 'borrow' from Skye's laptop while he was recovering a few months ago.

And all it took him was an _extremely_ large bag of double-chocolate cookies.

A small part of him took a moment to worry about how easily their security had been bought.

Now, it was masking everything he was doing on the company's server, by making it look as though he was simply working on a personal and private excel file, while in reality, he was tracking the SHIELD ping his phone had given him.

He let the information flow across the screen as his eyes darted forwards and backwards to read it all, and inwardly, where Diggle couldn't see his reaction, he grinned.

SHIELD and The Hood were apparently now chasing the same shooter.

All Ward had been able to find was a codename, but they had some information that he hadn't been able to dig up. He took a note of anything important, and made sure to remember it for later. The poison-laced bullets were going to be tricky though, he only wore leather when he was out, it was after all, much lighter and easier to move in than any sort of body armour, but it offered no protection from bullets.

The Unidac Industries link was something he wouldn't have considered trying to look for either. Mercenaries like Deadshot typically killed one or two people per city, per visit, but Unidac made him reconsider that.

It gave him a potential victim list of nearly forty buyers, plus everyone else who would be there for the auction, which included a lot of civilians.

And the best way to stop that, would to be to take Deadshot out of the equation before the auction even started, and from his peek into the messaging software, he could see when they had discussed paying a visit to a returning Karl Rasmussen in a few hours.

"Diggle!"

The man in question stepped through the door, as he tucked the tablet under his arm, "Please call for the car, I think I'll be spending the rest of the day at home. You are dismissed, oh, and don't make plans for tomorrow evening"

"What's this evening Sir?"

"The Unidac Auction", at the silent question he continued, "while Merlyn Global won't be bidding, it will be an excellent networking opportunity for me to establish a range of contacts, as well as hopefully make some new potential clients and investors. It starts at seven-thirty, you will pick me up at six"

The other man stared at him, while he pretended not to notice, as he collected his messenger bag from under his desk, "Very well Sir. I will see you tomorrow then"

* * *

**_"_ ** **_Karl Rasmussen is yet another name on the list Garrett gave me, and if he's the one ordering the hits on the Unidac buyers then he needs to be stopped, but if he's a target, then I can't let Deadshot get to him._ **

**_The Hood needs to get to him first._ **

**_I need to get to him first"_ **

* * *

The private parking lot that was connected to the executive entrance, was well hidden away from any potentially prying eyes. It sat away from everywhere else, shrouded in darkness, with the only source of light being the streetlights overhead. Having left the plane and gone through a much quicker passport security than regular people, Karl Rasmussen made his way towards where he had his car parked, briefcase in hand, where his Unidac papers were stored.

Placing the briefcase on the roof of his silver Mercedes, he kept his latte in his left hand, while trying to retrieve his keys from where he'd put them inside of his coat, pulling them out just before a voice called out to him, startling him, and causing him to drop the coffee he'd been looking forward to.

"Mister Rasmussen?"

"Son of a-"

Swallowing the plethora of curses in his throat, he span around, intending to give the nosy bastard a piece of his mind, only to come face to face with several people, one of which had one of the city's detective shields displayed proudly on his belt.

_Great, just… great…_

"My name's Phil Coulson, I'm an agent with SHIELD, we'd like to you about Unidac Industries"

"Not interested"

Letting Coulson do the talking, given that it was his specialty, May chose to scan the area around them, aware that Barton, was doing the same thing, while Skye shadowed Coulson. The four of them had chosen to come, leaving the others back in the SCPD precinct, where they would hopefully remain out of trouble.

It was a nice spot, she decided, an enclosed space which would protect them from any kind of sniper rifle attack - they were too tightly boxed in for any sort of straight shot to be viable, so either Deadshot needed to start developing magic bullets, or he would need to get in closer.

Hopefully close enough for them to take him down.

And that's when she realizes the mistake they've made.

Cursing herself for acting like a damn rookie, she moves trying to tackle Rasmussen out of the way.

"Get DOWN!"

A hail of bullets resounds around them.

They're in an enclosed space, where they're bunched together in a tight group, an awful location for a sniper to take a shot in, great for defence, but also an ideal target area for a man using some sort of machine gun, especially for an assassin who's reportedly been known to use two of them mounted on his wrists.

Barton pulls Coulson down with him, as she attempts to drag Rasmussen with her, and she takes note of Detective Lance making it to cover beside her.

_Where's Skye?_

Peeking over the top of the car, she sees Skye standing face to face with Deadshot, his face covered in the same white mask Interpol had photographs of, with his right eye covered by the giant red eyepiece, which almost certainly helps with reading his environment, she's sure of it.

Her attempt to stand is met with a fresh storm of bullets, and she lets out a frustrated yell, which is matched only by the matching look on Coulson's face as the master assassin effortlessly pins the four of them into place.

Barton snaps up, firing an arrow off, before ducking down in one smooth movement, hoping to take the marksman out, but Deadshot doesn't miss a beat. Using a bullet from the pistol he had holstered at his hip, he split the arrow mid-flight, firing it off over Skye's shoulder, who let out a small shriek, which he follows up with a second barrage of machine gun fire, keeping them pinned down.

They're all boxed in with nowhere to go.

"So darlin'", his light Australian accent rings through his words, tempered by his years abroad, "I don't usually do this when there's no one payin' me, but you got in the way, so, any last words for me?"

He can see her trembling hands slowly trying to inch towards the weapon she has on her hip. She's scared, a rookie agent definitely, but she's trying so very hard to not show it, and he licks his lips in anticipation, it's been a long time since he's done one like this.

He raises his right wrist, aiming for her heart, quick, clean and painless, when he hears the whistle of an arrow flying through the air. He acts on the instincts he's perfected over his entire career, lowering his left arm just in time for the arrow to not shatter his wrist, but embed itself through the side of his barrel.

His gaze swings around, keeping his other weapon trained on the girl, and immediately scanning the best vantage points, looking for the Starling City Vigilante when the voice cuts through the air, electronically disguised, but still crisp and clear, with the underlying growl sending a tingle of anticipation down his spine.

"Deadshot! You have failed this city!"

Clad in dark green leather, The Hood dropped from the side of the buildings on a zip-line, his bow in his left hand, landing with his right drawing back the bowstring immediately.

There's no time to waste.

The distraction was all Skye needed to dive behind the car, escaping the assassin's sights, and joining the others, much to the relief of May and Coulson. Detective Lance's hand drifts to where he has his own weapon holstered, in an attempt to draw his gun on The Hood, but a warning glare from May had him standing down.

They watched as The Hood let his nocked arrow loose, and Deadshot dodged to the side, firing as he moved backwards, and causing the vigilante to take cover of his own, moving behind one of the other cars.

Acting on the same wavelength, Hawkeye moved out at the same time as The Hood, the two archers leaping their covers, firing off their arrows, and alternating their shots, between letting the other shoot and ducking for cover as they tried to advance, either one of them hoping for a single, successful, hit.

By the time the firing from Deadshot stopped firing at them long enough for them to get a good look around, there was the unmistakeable sound of tires squealing on tarmac, and the master assassin was already trying to flee by car.

The two archers leapt the last of their barriers, both men drawing and firing a final arrow, in an attempt to stop the car before it was too late, but the master assassin was smart enough to know how fast he needed to be, and was already out of their immediate range.

The two of them turned in sync, facing each other, both thinking that SHIELD would definitely want The Hood brought in for questioning, if not to outright recruit him.

Hawkeye's fingers twitched towards his quiver, and The Hood lashed out. His fist planted itself onto the Avenger's nose, which was followed up by a knee to his gut, sending the SHIELD agent sprawling to the floor.

The vigilante darted off as Hawkeye rolled backwards, back to his feet, and firing an arrow off, aiming straight for the other man's thigh, putting a stop to his leaving. Not breaking his stride, The Hood span mid-step, using his bow as a tool to knock the arrow out of the air, as his spare hand drew his own arrow.

The dark green archer didn't hesitate in firing an arrow back, which Hawkeye had to stop and catch, while The Hood had sent his grappling arrow off towards the roof of the nearest building, allowing it to pull him up and away. The sound of ICER fire greeted them, as the SHIELD agents finally opened fire, but they were too late, he'd disappeared onto the roof, and Hawkeye didn't have a grappling arrow - he'd found that he rarely used them while he was one the job.

_I might have to start carrying one if this becomes a regular thing._

"Help… me"

Drawing their attention back to him, they all turned to find their original goal for the evening lying on the floor, where Karl Rasmussen lay dying, with the blood leaving his body from twin holes in his chest.

In the background they were aware of Lance calling for an ambulance, watching as Coulson attempted to halt the bleeding with his jacket, fighting to save the man's life, despite knowing that the poison would most likely kill him in mere minutes anyway.

It was almost a relief when the light left his eyes, and he struggled no more.

* * *

**_"_ ** **_Deadshot is what he always has been - a hired gun, working for the money, but the question is who is he working for, and why is Unidac so important to them?_ **

**_I've got no skill with computers - a known weakness of mine - and there's no one I can trust to help me do this. The money trail I've located leads back to a company called The Thelgith Corporation, but they're an overseas shell company that I have no way of sourcing._ **

**_I've got nothing here, and I'm no closer to stopping Deadshot than I was yesterday._ **

**_If SHIELD hadn't been there, then I could've taken him down yesterday, but they got in my way, and now, another man has paid the price_ **

**_I need to be better than this"_ **

* * *

"Come on guys! So we lost today, that just means that we have to try again, even harder, tomorrow"

As tired as he was, Coulson couldn't help but smile a little at Skye's endless optimism, which was bolstered by the fact that both Fitz and Simmons agreed with her.

"You know what?" Standing up from where she had been lounging across the meeting room table they'd been given to work in, Bobbi drew everyone's eyes to her, "I could really go for a few drinks"

"Yes!" Hunter surged to his feet, from where he had almost fallen asleep in a desk chair, "Now you're talking sense"

Across the room from the, May rolled her eyes, and got up to leave the room, with Barton quickly following after her, still upset from his failed attempt to take down The Hood earlier.

"Don't do anything too crazy"

Ignoring their squeals of delight form behind him, Coulson idly wondered just how much trouble the younger members of his team could get into.

* * *

"G'night Jones"

"G'night Lance"

The car park was empty as he fumbled for his keys, feeling in desperate need of some well-deserved rest, they had some really useful stuff, but the SHIELD team he'd been sent were really putting his head through the ringer with the Deadshot case.

They were a nice group, mostly, but half of them were kids, who barely seemed to know what was going on in the real world around them.

As he found the key to his car, he withdrew his hand out of his pocket, before someone wrenched his arm from behind him, yanking it up into a position that made him want to yell out in pain, even as someone pushed him onto the hood of his car face-first.

"Detective"

With his voice distorted through the hood his suit, The Hood's growl came out deeper than usual, and Quentin felt his anger levels skyrocket.

"Listen to me you son of a bitch-"

"Somebody hired Deadshot to take out the buyers targeting Unidac Industries. His best chance now is to strike everybody at the auction tomorrow and I can't protect everybody in a space that size. He uses a seven point six-two millimetre round laced with a poison called Curare. Interpol call him Deadshot because he never misses his target. You can look this up after I leave-"

"The only way you're leaving is in-"

He silenced the detective by pulling his arm higher, to a point where making any noise that wasn't a scream would be difficult.

"The bullets are laced with poison. Tell your men to wear Kevlar"

Lance flinched when he heard the 'CRUNCH', and waited for his body to register feeling the pain of a shattered bone, or at least a dislocated shoulder, but instead felt nothing. Controlling his breathing, he looked up to see the arrow that had been left behind as a signature, the only clue, other than the pain in his shoulder that The Hood had really been there at all.

Turning back to the arrow, he plucked it out of his car's bonnet, and let out a small groan and the hole left behind.

The front of his car was ruined.

* * *

Grant Ward descended the stairs to the Unidac auction, flashing his Merlyn Global business card with a smile, Diggle keeping his pace a standard three steps behind him. He absently ran his eyes over the area, scanning the place, and was pleased to note that Diggle was doing the same, and though was much less subtle about it, he was much more focused than he was.

By his count, there were seventeen police officers scattered throughout the room, six women and eleven men, dressed both, in their uniforms and in suits and dresses, attempting to blend in as guests, as well as Coulson's team.

Hunter and Simmons were posed as a wealthy British couple interested in buying the company, and he could hear the biochemist trying, (and failing), to blend in at convincing the people around her as to her fake identity. Bobbi and Skye were intermingled as invited guests, while Coulson, May and Mack were acting as members of Stark's personal security team, with the billionaire in question stood in front of them, chatting away with Malcolm, who looked as though he wanted to be anywhere else than where he was.

The four men and May were all dressed in black suits and ties, while the other women all wore appropriate cocktail dresses. Simmons was dressed in a knee-length pale peach dress and matching heels, which matched up with Hunter's tie, though the trained eye could tell that while it was a nice dress, it was a poor fit for her, and he assumed it belonged to someone else. Skye's was done in a pale gold that complimented her skin and hair well, but it was the slightly too-short cut for this type of gathering, which reinforced his belief that both women were wearing SHIELD clothing, but was stood out by far was the bright red colour of Bobbi's that caught his eye.

Or rather, it was the way it, combined with the small, nude heels she was wearing made her legs seem even longer than they were, and he couldn't stop his eyes from following.

From his place behind him, Diggle coughed into his hand lightly, breaking his concentration, and from the way the other man was avoiding looking at him, it was obvious he'd been caught staring. Bobbi didn't turn around to face him fully, and though she wouldn't look at him, he caught sight of a smirk playing on her lips, letting him know she'd seem him.

It seemed that being a field agent experienced at undercover work was actually a benefit to a girl's wardrobe.

He tried not to look too guilty, as he made his way over to where Malcolm was starting to look ready to leave via the nearest window, pulling the older man into a handshake-hug combination, and pulled him away from Stark for a brief moment.

"Thank God you're here"

He whispered it quietly, through clenched teeth, so that only he could hear him, and based on his own brief passing encounters with Stark in the past, where they'd never even had to talk, he couldn't blame the older man one bit.

Stark extended his hand in greeting, which he grasped firmly, but the older man shot him a curious look as he did so. Feeling his eyebrows scrunch together, into a frown, the billionaire forced a polite smile onto his face as they shook hands.

"I'm sorry, have we met?"

He noticed Pepper Potts make her way to Stark's side, handing him a glass of scotch, as she held her own drink in a flute.

"Not personally, no, but I have worked with your security team in the past. I'm actually surprised more of them aren't here tonight"

He watched as her eyebrows shot up in surprise, but before she could respond to him, he decided to proceed with 'saving-Malcolm' plan, turning to face his brother's adoptive father.

"I've just spotted a few of the executives for Stellmoor International attending to the hors d'oeuvres downstairs. If you still want to try and wrangle a meeting with them, they're currently eating, drinking, and most likely in a good mood. I imagine that right now would be your best chance to convince them"

As Malcolm disappeared into the crowed, after giving Stark a soft apology and shooting him a grateful look, Ward didn't bother trying to linger around, and answer Pepper's questions. With Diggle at his back, he tried to head for the bar, where he felt the need for a drink, before a tight grip on his arm stopped him.

Mack had grabbed him while he wasn't looking.

Diggle stepped forward immediately, and Mack let go in reaction, but that didn't stop May and Coulson from joining them, nor did Stark seem in any hurry to call them away.

"We need to talk"

"I'll pass"

"I don't think you will"

The force behind Mack's voice intensified, as he stepped forward, trying to loom over him. With almost anyone else, Mack would've come off as intimidating, but he was used to being taller than the people he threated, which he wasn't with Ward, even before Diggle, who was slightly shorter than him, put himself between the two of them.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to step back"

Mack weighed his options, before reluctantly taking an obvious step backwards, falling into a line with Coulson and May, who both looked somewhat concerned, and putting a hand on Digg's shoulder, Ward stepped around him, standing face-to-face with the trio.

"I'm here to _work_ ", he stressed the last word, treating them as he would a child, and he saw their anger flare in response, "I have an actual job to do, and if you put your hands on me again, everyone here will suddenly find out that SHIELD has come to the auction, and no doubt want to know why. I suggest you keep your distance if you want to maintain your cover. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get a drink, and then see if I can convince Ray Palmer that we're the ideal company to build his new green global headquarters"

Reluctantly, the three of them decided to stay quiet and keep their cover, which meant they had to follow Stark as Pepper dragged him away in an attempt to keep the peace, and the former specialist found himself free to head to the bar, where he wasted no time in ordering a neat scotch, while Digg declined the offer of one.

A short drink took the edge off from his interaction with his former team members, and helped to keep him in a better mood than the scowling he was about to fall into.

Declining the offer of a re-fill, he picked up a ginger ale in a champagne flute, and made his way around the room, greeting the clients he'd already met during his time at Merlyn Global, while also trying his best to make a good first impression with everyone he was being introduced to.

"Detective"

He used the man's title as a greeting, given that any attempt at politeness he went for was sure to be rebuffed, and Lance turned around with a questioning gaze, looking for the source, but it quickly became one of irritation when he caught sight of him.

"Ward. What do you want?"

"I just wanted to say thank you, for being here"

Lance shot him a look of disbelief, before scoffing as he walked off, calling in for a radio check, and doing his best to ignore the bane of his recent life, as he danced around the city's one-percenters.

"Hey handsome", he stiffened slightly, as he felt fingers run around the back of his neck, while she whispered in his ear, "how about a dance?"

He bit back a groan as Bobbi stepped from behind him, running a finger down his tie, as she kept her teasing smile on her lips, and before he knew what was going on, she had pulled him onto the dancefloor.

Luckily, he'd been trained for just such an occasion.

His right hand found her left, somehow devoid of champagne flute as his other hand settled on the small oh her back, while her spare hand found its place on his shoulder, and she used it to pull him in close, until they were practically stuck together.

He swallowed, and she grinned at him, barely looking up at him, as her small heels gave him a half-inch of height on her at most.

If she'd worn normal heels she'd definitely be taller than him. He'd never been with a woman bigger than him before, and he idly wondered how that'd feel.

"How've you-", he cleared his throat when his question lodged itself in there, and if it was possible, her grin grew even wider, "how've you been?"

"I've been fine, and you?" She smoothed down the non-existent creases on his jacket's lapel, "Mister Billionaire-"

"Malcolm's the billionaire", he interrupted her, staring intently at her, as she grinned at him while they continued to dance, "Tommy, my _brother_ , Malcolm's _son_ , is also a billionaire. I just work for Malcolm's company"

"For which you get paid a _lot_ of money"

"Well, it's true what they say you know?" At her raised eyebrow, he continued, "it's not what you know, but who you know. Also, I never realised you were so shallow - how did I miss that?"

She rolled her eyes at him in response, and gently rested her head next to her hand, on his shoulder, while they continued to dance, letting the soft sound of the small orchestral band wash over them.

"How long are you going to be in town for?"

"Probably a few days, mission, clean up, paperwork. You know how it goes, why?"

"Let me take you to dinner"

Slowly, as to not jostle about too much, she raised her head to look at him, "Like a real date?"

He nodded, "I know we haven't actually had one before, but if you don't want to that's fine, but-"

"I want to"

He grinned at her, and she felt herself smile in response, "I'm glad. Tomorrow then? I can pick you up at seven?"

"That would be nice. The Bus is parked at Starling International - I'm staying there, splitting a bunk with Simmons"

"Okay then. Tomorrow it is"

"Okay"

The two of them continued to sway lightly, in silence while the other couples were busy talking business or gossiping. For Ward, it was nice to just be with someone while it was peaceful for once, and not have to worry about gunfire and knives.

There was no way it could have lasted.

He had his head resting on the top of hers, with his back to the room, so when the target came in, it was Bobbi that saw it first, spinning around him, even as everyone else moved.

Without hesitation, Detective Lance barrelled across the room and tackled Walter Steele, the man they'd interviewed earlier. Ward struggled to figure out what was going on, before he heard the gunshot, which shattered a tower of glasses, behind where Steele's chest should've been.

**_Time to go to work._ **

Lance hauled Steele to his feet and pulled him from the room, aware of the SHIELD agents scanning the perimeter, he placed his body between Steele and the windows as more shots were fired off. As Deadshot started picking off more targets.

While Bobbi ran off to regroup with her fellow agents, Ward was aware of Diggle appearing at his side, his gun already drawn, as he prepared to get him out of there and to safety.

"Sir-"

"Where's Malcolm?"

"Already clear Sir, but I need to get you-"

"No!" He helped two women, neither of which looked any older than eighteen to their feet, from where they were cowering under a table, "Help them, and help get anyone else you can out of here. That's an order Diggle"

He didn't give him any time to protest, as he made his way to the fire exit furthest from the window, stopping only to help a few people who had fallen get back up, while SHIELD and the SCPD began figuring out a way to get the civilians out of harm's way.

A quick look was all he needed to make sure that no one was looking his way, before he slipped into the stairwell.

* * *

The sad part about being one of The Avengers, was that none of them wore masks, and the ones that did in costume (Stark and Rogers), were far too recognisable to be discrete, or even have a private life.

It was for that reason that he had kept his entire family as far out of the way as possible.

The downside of that, was that he couldn't be on the ground to help the others, after all, what better way was there to flush out a marksman, than with another marksman, but on the upside, from his vantage point, across the street, if Deadshot decided to go long range, then it wouldn't take him long to get there.

He was glad for the new thermal tech lining his vest, helping him combat the early night chill as he kept vigil, using his binoculars to track the movements of the people inside, paying particular attention to the kids.

He watched on as the four younger members of the team began to rub elbows with some of the nation's privileged elite. Hunter relaxed into the undercover work with an ease that shocked the archer, forcibly reminding him that the man was both SAS trained, and a former mercenary - a well-paid one at that. His partner for the night, Simmons, was the complete opposite. The SHIELD-issued dress wasn't a great fit for her, making her stand out and him think that it was borrowed. She really didn't do deception well, but it was lucky that Hunter was (mostly) capable of covering for her slips.

Skye was stuck somewhere in the middle of the other two, in his opinion. She was able to blend in well with the larger crowds, smiling and laughing when it was appropriate, and it probably helped that her dress was a much better fit too, but when she was approached in smaller groups, or one-on-one, then it was clear that she didn't know what to do, and she stood out, looking clearly like a fraud.

Morse, however, was the complete opposite to Simmons, and she was working without the one disadvantage Hunter had - having a partner. Her dress was her own, no doubt one she had procured for another job at some point in her career, and she had more than enough training to blend in to any of the situations she needed.

He decided that it was time to stop keeping an eye on her when she dragged the former HYDRA agent onto the dancefloor, where they looked far too comfortable for his tastes.

Not that it mattered to either of them what he thought.

He spent time flicking through all of the others, avoiding looking at the dancefloor, and making sure to get a look at as many guests as possible, though he wasn't sure how much help that'd be, seeing as how no one knew what Deadshot looked like under his mask.

He continued his scan of the room, keeping an eye on Stark and Pepper who were the two most likely to be shot at - Stark doubly so without his suit on.

He knew he'd missed something when one of the cops began barrelling across the room, only for gunshots to follow seconds later.

He was already on the move by the time the second shot fired.

* * *

Knowing that Diggle, SHIELD and the SCPD were more than capable of handling the evacuation, he made his way up the stairs, tapping his belt buckle before he reached the line of sight for the first camera, not feeling the low level EMP blast that knocked it out of commission.

Flying up the stairs, he reached the landing, as well as the metal trash can that sat there. He wasted no time in opening the bag, where he found his suit and tools in the bag he had stashed there, when he had broken in in the early hours of the morning, when security was at its laxest, and pulled it out.

Once he was two floors away from the roof, he pulled off his shirt, jacket and trousers, revealing his under-gear, which had made sure to wear under his tux, which he then began to swap with his vigilante alter-ego's protective gear.

While he hadn't seen the first shot, getting a look at the others gave him the chance to see the muzzle flash, and while everyone else was busy helping the people being shot at, it allowed him to mark out Deadshot's rough location, which was all he needed. When he reached the door to the roof, he stashed his bag, now holding his formalwear, inside of the stairwell, before he burst onto the roof.

He took a moment to look for the window he'd seen the gunfire from, and then looking to the one next to it, he fired off his grappling arrow.

* * *

He rolled in through the smashed window, firing off two quick arrows, before ducking behind a concrete pillar as Deadshot opened fire, his wrist mounted cannons letting loose a hailstorm of bullets, sending bits of concrete flying past him.

Spinning out, he let another arrow fly as he dove towards Deadshot, spinning his bow in his hand, allowing him to use it as a quarterstaff as he tried to force the assassin into hand-to-hand, restricting the use of the master assassin's weapons of choice.

He blocked a wild left and right, before sending him falling back with a kick to the chest. He dove for cover again as Deadshot opened fire during his fall, his muted laugh mocking him.

"I gotta say man, that I am a big fan of your work. Don't suppose you'll be extending me any professional courtesy?"

"We're not in the same line of work! Your profession is murder. You're a piece of scum who kills for money!"

"You've taken lives!"

He swallowed, remembering all the lives he'd killed, for SHIELD, for HYDRA, and the few he'd taken as the vigilante. Their faces, an assault on his memory.

"Only for the good of others"

Deadshot opened fire again. He didn't think, on instinct, he just let his body react.

Spinning around his cover, he fired an arrow blindly, hearing the thunk of an arrow sinking into flesh, and the sound of a body hitting the floor.

He peeked around, seeing an arrow sticking out of Lawton's left eye.

**_Is he dead?_ **

**_Is that another name I need to add to my ledger?_ **

Slinging his bow over his shoulder, he relaxed slightly, if nothing else, his target was definitely neutralised for the moment.

Hearing a groan from behind him, he span, one hand shooting out to reach for his flechettes, he saw one of Coulson's missing team members collapse to the floor.

There, along the left arm of the arching Avenger, were bullet grazes, from where Deadshot's bullets had nicked his skin, as the other man had tried to sneak up on the two of them whilst they fought.

The shattering of glass drew his attention, and he turned just in time to see the world deadliest marksman diving out of one of the windows, leaving an arrow coated with his blood behind, and inwardly, Ward cursed.

There were two choices - save the hero, and there wasn't a guarantee that he could, or stop the assassin, who was already wounded and would be easy pickings for him.

Both options would mean one more death today, and many lives saved in the future.

**_What am I supposed to do?_ **


End file.
